


Valentine's Savior

by like-waves-on-the-beach (alliecameron)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9850403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliecameron/pseuds/like-waves-on-the-beach
Summary: Sequel to my CS Christmas fic - Holiday Interlude. After over a month apart, a friend comes looking for Emma to help with a certain stubborn Brit. Strong M.





	1. February 12th

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. 
> 
> I'm so sorry this has taken me longer than expected to finish, but, on the bright side, it's still February!I had intended this sequel to roll out like Holiday Interlude, but since you've had to wait, and it's a week over the intended post date, I'm posting the complete thing today. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy it. Remember, kindness means payment with comments and kudos. 
> 
> A huge, huge, HUGE, thanks to ilovemesomekillianjones. You are been so awesome since we started down this road some months back and it been beyond amazing to have done this with you.

February 12th    

Emma hurried through the streets of her small home town just east of Tallahassee, on her way to her second job, a job she’d been persuaded to after the last skip she’d chased slipped through her fingers, literally.

Will Scarlett was a two bit hustler, on his third skip, and Emma had been on his tail since the new year. She finally tracked him down to an area in Econfina River State Park. She’d had him in her grasp when, as she reached for her restraints, he’d wriggled free, tossing her over his shoulder in the process, and she’d landed in a thorn bush. Unable to follow him, she’d given up, and hobbled back to town. Her boss had come down on her hard for her mistake and she didn’t mind admitting he’d become a bit of an ass since Christmas. Apparently, his other half had walked out on him during the holiday and now it seemed he had an ax to grind with every female he met. Including her. He’d given her less and less skips, forcing her to find additional work to supplement her less than stellar wage. Now she worked part time at the Blue Diamond, a tavern-like pub run by Leroy, affectionately called Grumpy by all who knew him, and Jefferson; as well as a local diner.

When had her life become so boring? she snorted to herself. Did she really consider her day to day life as living? No! She wasn’t living… she was merely existing.

She existed, her hair and nails grew, but she felt as though she wasn’t alive. She’d felt that way since the moment she turned her back to the one good thing in her life, the one thing she knew was right in a sea of wrongness. She felt this way since she boarded that damn airplane and left Killian alone in Boston the day after Christmas.

She sighed to herself, shaking her head as she mentally added another morning to the list of mornings she’d counted since she left her heart in Massachusetts. That meant there had been 48 days since she woke up without Killian by her side, 48 lunches she ate alone, and so far, 47 evenings she went to bed alone. Valentine’s Day was just around the corner, and she was planning to lock herself in her tiny apartment and hold on tightly to her Pirate bear.

She burst through the doors of the diner, A Dash of Magic, trying to remember why she was working in this grease pit. Oh, right, she huffed, because Neal was a prick and had taken half her money to L.A. with him, when he had left with the bit of trash she had found him with. Add in the fact her boss had given the latest skips to her two colleagues, she knew he hated her, she was desperate to find money to make her rent.

On the upside, she no longer felt anything toward Neal anymore, other than pity. The man hadn’t been particularly good at anything, and he was an even worse criminal, and his move to L.A. hadn’t changed his talent or lack of luck in the slightest. She wouldn’t be surprised if he eventually came back to town, knocking on her door and begging for her forgiveness, but she had moved on completely, and there wasn’t a chance in hell he would ever warm her bed again.

She waved to Walsh, the owner of A Dash of Magic diner, a fairy tale themed diner in the heart of Perry, as far away from anything magical as possible. She always thought whoever had dreamed up the concept of this diner was trying desperately to cash in on the moneymaker, Disney World, approximately 200 hundred miles away. Unfortunately, this small diner fell short of the magic of Disney, that was why Walsh also owned the furniture store across the street from the restaurant.

“You’re late, Emma,” Walsh berated her good-heartedly. She hustled past where he was standing behind the long counter, and through the swinging door made to look like a fairy door, entering the employee’s area by the kitchen.

“I know, I’m sorry, Walsh,” she smiled as he followed her through the door, using his infatuation with her to her advantage as she hustled around the break room and gathered what she would need for her shift from her locker, including her pale pink apron, an order pad, and a ballpoint pen. Each waitress had a character costume as a uniform and Emma hated her Princess one with a passion. “No excuse, I overslept this morning,” she explained as she shrugged out of her coat, hanging it haphazardly on the communal coatrack that resided next to the metal boxes where workers kept their belongings. She didn’t say she overslept, again, because she was plagued with dreams about a certain pirate-like man. He’d certainly stolen her heart.

She knew all too well Walsh had created the managerial role especially for her when she was down on her luck back in January. She was just a glorified, highly-paid waitress, but she appreciated his effort and kindness. Part of their agreement was she would never work the evening shift so she could work a second job at Leroy and Jefferson’s tavern.

Walsh was a strange kind of man. It was almost as if he had two personalities at times. Mostly he was charming and kind, always willing to lend a shoulder for Emma to lean on, but there were times he was a little creepy, like the way he would watch her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. It was obvious from when they first met he’d developed a crush on her, but that spark was never there for her. In her mind, he was a friend and would never become anything more.

Leroy, by contrast, was mean-spirited, hard to please, and completely earned his ‘Grumpy’ moniker. But, he was also kind hearted, something not a lot of people saw from him, and Emma tended to think of him as an uncle figure. He was always offering her his thoughts on things, and didn’t hold back. He was the first to give her the ‘I told you so’ speech when Neal had taken half her money and split.

When she came back to town after Christmas so down on her luck, both men were more than happy to offer her some work to keep her on her feet.  Along with Jefferson, who also worked at Leroy’s, she knew she’d certainly lucked out with the friends in her life, no matter how weird they were.

Jefferson was completely different. He was more her own age, and her surrogate brother. She and Neal had met him when they first arrived in Perry years earlier, and they became fast friends. They got drunk together, and complained about their lives together, they’d even shared a drunken New Year’s kiss years earlier.

Walsh was wisdom, where Jefferson was goofy.  Walsh was reason, where Jefferson was reckless. Leroy was stable, while Jefferson was crazy.

“Anytime today, Emma,” Walsh’s voice broke through her reverie, and he handed her a tiara style headband that completed the outfit, which she hated with a vengeance. She rolled her eyes at him as she took the offending headgear from him.

“How is it possible that this is my life?” she complained as she pushed back through the door, tying her apron around her waist and checking that her order pad and pen were in the pocket. Twenty-six years old and she was still working at the diner that had provided her with much needed cash when she first arrived in Tallahassee at seventeen.

She pushed her thoughts away as she headed over to a table full of construction workers waiting for their morning meal before starting their work day.

~*~

“Swan, I’m beginning to worry about you, ya know?” Jefferson’s smooth voice interrupted her thoughts later that evening as she sat at the end of the bar, haphazardly peeling the label on a bottle of Hook Pale Ale. His friend was not the same since her return from Boston. He thought her impromptu trip was to get over Neal, that prick of a boyfriend who she finally kicked to the curb, but she came back a thousand times worse than before. Clearly, something happened in Boston, but she wasn’t speaking about it.

He knew there must be a man involved in this situation somewhere, but whenever he tried to talk to her about it, she clammed up, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, and he hated to see her cry, so he endeavored to make her laugh instead. And that was getting harder to do each day. He wished Elsa would come home soon. Elsa had been called away for an ‘emergency’ a week ago, only to find that emergency was Anna had some kind of panic attack over her upcoming wedding to Kristoff. Elsa had decided to say in Norway to help with some wedding organizing, leaving Jefferson to deal with an emotional devoid Emma.

“I’m okay, Jefferson,” she returned slowly, registering he had spoken to her.

“Did Walsh the Freak ask you out again?” he asked with a slight smile.

“He’s not a freak, Jefferson,” she chastised, but it was clear her heart wasn’t in it. 

“Sure, he is,” Jefferson grinned. “All that talk about flying monkeys. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention his infatuation with you… That’s freaky just in itself.”

She looked up at him sharply. “You think because a man finds me attractive, he must be a freak?” she asked.

“No. Not at all, Ems. You are a gorgeous woman, you know that,” he chuckled a little before adding. “I mean, c’mon. Do you even own a mirror!”

Despite herself, she let out a sigh. “At least there’s someone interested.”

“Are you telling me the next time he asks, you’re gonna say yes?” Jefferson asked, his eyebrows raising in shock.

“No,” she answered lamely. “Walsh knows he will never be more to me than just a friend.”

“Didn’t stop him from creating that job for you, though, did it?” Jefferson answered with a knowing smirk.

“Well, if Leroy let me have more hours here, I wouldn’t need that job, would I?” Emma countered with a teasing grin.

“Hey, sister,” Leroy’s gruff voice came from further down the bar. “You know if we could afford it, we’d have you here every night, but I just can’t get the numbers to work that way.”

Jefferson nodded his agreement, instantly wishing he could do more for his friend.

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m grateful for what I have,” Emma smiled weakly, though her expression changed again, and the loneliness crept back into her.

“Speaking of,” Jefferson said with fake enthusiasm. “Isn’t it time you got to work or something?”

“I guess,” she mumbled as she pushed herself from the stool and swallowed the last of her beer before reaching behind the bar for her short blue apron, a hundred times better than the one she wore at A Dash of Magic, in her option.

As she headed out into the crowd, the main door opened, and a woman with a pixie haircut bustled in.

Her eyes wandered the room, and she almost reluctantly moved over to the bar and sat on a stool there, looking around the bar and its décor with an amused grin as she took in the faux-cowboy decorations hanging around the interior.

“Hey there,” Jefferson greeted her. “What can I get you?”

“Erm, I’ll just have a beer, thanks,” she returned with a shy smile.

“Anything in particular?” Jefferson asked and watched as her eyes wandered the bar before landing on the bottle Emma had left.

“I’ll take one of those,” she answered with a nod of head in the direction of the empty longneck.

“Sure,” Jefferson returned and removed the empty bottle before placing a fresh one in front of her.

“Thanks,” she answered as she lifted the beer and took a slow sip.

“Just passing through?” Jefferson asked her, taking in her intriguing green eyes, and his gaze automatically lowered, and he sighed when he saw the wedding band on her finger.

“How can you tell?”

“I know everyone in this town, so you must fall into one of two categories. Either you’re new here or you’re passing through. And since that ring on your finger tells me you are married, and I see no husband by your side, I conclude just passing through.”

“Quite the detective, aren’t you?” she grinned to him.

“I have a friend who taught me a few tricks,” he smiled back.

“Well, maybe you can help me, man-with-a-friend?”

“I go by Jefferson these days,” he laughed.

“Okay, Jefferson,” she countered, nodding as she brought her chin to rest on top of her hands. “Do you happen to know Emma Swan?”

“Emma?” he asked. “What do you want with Emma?” He looked suspiciously at her sideways before asking hurriedly, “Did Neal send you?”

“Like I would do anything that dick asked me to.”

“At least you know who Neal is.”

“Yeah, she told us all about him when she came to Boston.”

“Boston,” he drawled slowly. “You met Emma in Boston?”

“Yes, I run the bed and breakfast where she stayed.”

Jefferson looked down again at this small woman.

“Mary Margaret Nolan,” she finally introduced herself, sticking her hand out in a way of greeting. “So, you do know Emma?”

“Yeah, I know Emma,” Jefferson answered, taking her small hand in his and giving it a slight shake.

“You think you can tell me where to find her? It’s pretty important. I went to her apartment, and her neighbor said I should be able to find her here.”

“Can I ask something first?”

“Sure,” she smiled

“What the hell did you do to my friend while she was with you?” he asked, a hint of anger creeping into his normally friendly tone.

“What do you mean?” Mary Margaret shot back, amazed at this man’s sudden change in tone.

“When she came back, it’s like she was broken or something, defective, and I can’t get her to snap back out of it.”

A slow understanding smile crossed Mary Margaret’s face. “I didn’t do anything to her, but I know someone who did.”

“Tell me who he is so I can kick his ass,” he demanded.

Mary Margaret laughed at that, shaking her head at the barman’s offer. “Killian Jones is the man you need to see, and trust me, all we have to do is to bang their stupid heads together, lock them in a room, and everything will be okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret sighed. “Did she not tell you about him?”

“Emma has hardly said a word about her trip to Boston, but I wondered who the guy was,” he countered, shrugging.

“How did you know there was a guy?”

“Well, for one thing, that stupid bear of hers,” he started. “It has a man’s voice. And the other big giveaway is all the sappy songs she listens to, and the fact she’s lost her love of life vibe,” his voice trailed off for a moment. “With everything that girl has been through, it’s only now she seems broken.”

“You should have seen them together,” Mary Margaret said with a shake of her head and a wisp of a smile. “I have never seen two people connect so easily and so passionately, and that includes me and my husband.”

“Yeah, really?” he said in surprise. “Emma’s not usually eager to give her heart away.”

“It was more than that,” Mary Margaret returned, confused a little at his cryptic words

“More than giving your heart away?” he queried, confused. How could there be anything more than giving your heart away to someone else?

“It was more like…” Mary Margaret paused, searching for the right words before lowering her voice to a hushed whisper. “It’s like giving your soul; your very being.”

“Wow,” Jefferson answered simply. “And that’s what has Emma acting the way she is now?”

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret nodded wistfully. “She and Killian both.”

“Well, that explains the lifelessness, the sulking, and the depression.”

“Yeah, and you should see Killian. He has the monopoly on brooding. I think he could be a world champion,” she joked before shaking her head, letting out a disgusted snort of laughter, and becoming serious again.  “It’s not pretty, though, and it certainly is not fun for his employees.”

Jefferson was called away to serve another customer and Mary Margaret took the opportunity to look around the tavern. Whoever had devised the décor had tried to go for an old world pub feeling, and she thought, at some time, it had worked. Now it looked out dated and in need of an overhaul.

She did a double take when she spied Emma, moving from a table with glasses on her tray as she tucked a pencil behind an ear. She looked just as she had during Christmas, but Mary Margaret noted there seemed to be something missing, something that was explicitly Emma.

She turned back when Jefferson reappeared. “She’s lost some weight,” she observed, recalling she thought the same when she first saw Killian again since Christmas.

“Yeah, tell me about it. You just don’t know the hoops I have to jump through to get her to eat.”

“Believe me, I know,” Mary Margaret returned with a light smile.

Mary Margaret’s mind drifted back to her first meeting with Killian after his Christmas vacation earlier that week. They were only days away from introducing his new beer, and Mary Margaret and David had driven to Storybrooke for the launch and after-party. What they found encouraged Mary Margaret’s impromptu trip to Perry.

~*~

A few days earlier in Storybrooke, Maine.

“Damn it, Regina. Where the bloody hell are those papers?” a gruff voice called from behind the double doors of the office across the hall.

The offices were in the upper portion of an old cannery beside Storybrooke docks, which had been converted to house The Storybrooke Brewing Company a few years ago, when the business really started to take off. Now there was a purpose built brewery beside the cannery to accommodate the ever-growing business, leaving the old cannery as an administrative building with rooms to hold functions in the lower section. 

The décor of the rooms was simple; rustic, bare brick walls with sturdy wooden doors and furnishings, proclaiming a predominately male zone. The only room to show any sense of femininity was Regina’s office, which she had decorated herself.

“How long has he been like this?” Mary Margaret asked the statuesque raven-haired beauty, her brows raising at her friend’s tone. Regina was dressed immaculately, as always, in a white tailored trouser suit, her hair flicking sassily at the ends, and she always managed to make Mary Margaret feel slightly inadequate somehow.

They were sitting in Regina’s office, Regina behind her large L shaped desk, which ran across the front of her and down to her left, and Mary Margaret in a comfortable leather chair opposite.  Regina’s office was across from Killian’s, a lobby area separating the offices where a personal assistant who served both of them was stationed, along with a large seating area for anyone waiting to see either Killian or Regina.

“Since he got back from visiting you,” Regina snorted. “What the hell did you do to him? I thought the whole idea of him going to Boston was to relax, not coming back worse than he was before he went.”

Mary Margaret looked toward the doors again, knowing full well what was wrong with her friend, but also aware he would not appreciate her sharing this information with Regina. It had been six weeks since Killian was in Boston for the holidays, and six weeks since he last saw Emma. Mary Margaret hadn’t seen Killian since he left Boston to return home and to his business, but she spoke to him on the phone as often as she could, and she knew from his monosyllabic answers and the dead tone to his voice, that he was taking his separation from Emma hard.

She was still amazed at the level of his feelings for a stranger he met at her and her husband’s Bed and Breakfast. They had known each other for less than a week and now, six weeks later, he was still in a deep depressing hole because of this girl. Mary Margaret had also spoken to Emma a few times on the phone since then, and the blonde never failed to ask how Killian was doing. Every time, there was a hitch in her voice as she stumbled over his name.  Mary Margaret often wondered where these two would be now if Emma hadn’t left Boston or if Killian had the balls to follow her to Perry.

The door opened suddenly, and Killian stalked out, crossing the small space between the two offices in three strides.

“Do you have that bloody paperwork?” he asked as he shoved the slightly opened door to Regina’s office, not bothering to knock on the wooden barrier.

“It’s on your desk,” Regina replied calmly.

Killian cast a glare at Mary Margaret, momentarily wondering what she was doing in Storybrooke before his mind cleared slightly, reminding him of two things: One, she was born there, and two, she had been invited to the launch party for the release of his new beer. He looked back to Regina impatiently before snapping, “I’ve already told you: It’s not on my desk.”

Killian watched with narrowing eyes as Regina stood silently from her chair behind her desk and walked out of her office, with him and Mary Margaret following. She entered his office and immediately moved to his large, simple, wooden desk, shifted a few stray sheets around before lifting a manila folder, waving it in the air with a smirk forming on her lips.

Killian was at her side in an instant, snatching the envelope from her hand.

“Oh, thank you Regina for finding them. Don’t mention it, Killian.” Regina answered for both of them before leaving the office.

Mary Margaret watched Killian with concern. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping properly. His stubble looked ragged and overgrown, and his eyes looked haggard. His weight loss was evident even through his usual attire of black button down and jeans.

“Killian……” she started but then was interrupted by the ringing of his phone, and he quickly answered it, stopping her from saying anything else, by holding up a single finger in a stopping motion.

“What?” he bellowed down the line to the poor, unsuspecting fool on the other end. Mary Margaret took this opportunity to wander his office, picking a few artifacts up as she inspected his domain.

It had been a while since she had been in his personal workspace and Mary Margaret noted his awards and medal collection had grown since she was last here, indicating he had won some new accolades for his beers.

His large desk was dominant in the room, a separate desk for his computer behind the first and against the back wall of the room.

She came to a stop when her eyes fell upon a pencil sketch in a simple frame, the only item on a large shelf in the hutch that topped his computer desk, and her eyes widened as she took in Emma’s face, tilted up, catching snowflakes on her eyelashes, and a content smile on her full lips.

Mary Margaret always knew Killian was an incredible artist, but this was the first time she ever saw something he had drawn, framed and displayed. She turned to Killian when he stopped talking, and she noticed he was watching her, clearly waiting for her reaction.

“It’s a good likeness,” she said to him. “I didn’t realize you did this in Boston.”

“I didn’t,” he answered gruffly. “I did it from memory.” He neglected to tell her about the drawing he kept in his apartment, the one he’d made of Emma during their last night together. That picture was for his eyes only.

Mary Margaret nodded at his vague explanation, wishing she could get the two of them in a room and then proceed to hit their heads together. They were so perfect together, it was driving her insane. “Oh, and I love the name for the new beer,” she grinned to him.

He offered her a weak smile, and that was all. “Listen, Mary Margaret. I’d love to stand here and shoot the breeze, but I have a million things I need to do before this thing on Sunday.”

“Okay, I’ll just,” and she hooked her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the exit.

Killian nodded as he reached for the phone again.

Mary Margaret walked out of his office, an idea turning over in her mind, and she suddenly turned back into Regina’s office. 

“So, Regina, do you have any contacts who can charter a plane?”

“Why?”

“Because we are bringing Killian out of his funk once and for all, that’s why.”

“And how are we about to do that? I’m not flying in any Playboy bunnies, ya know.”

“We don’t need those. We just need one person, and she is in Perry, Florida.”

“Oh, the mystery girl,” Regina smiled, as she leaned across her desk slightly and lifted the receiver from the large telephone on her desk. Mary Margaret nodded, a smile on her face as she listened to Regina instruct her PA to arrange a flight to Tallahassee for Mary Margaret as soon as possible.

~*~

And now here Mary Margaret was, just short of 24 hours later, standing in front of the other half of the duo that was slowly driving her insane.

She was unable to get through to Killian, to get him to make a stand for the girl he loved. When he had returned dejectedly from taking Emma to Logan airport, all she got out of him was, It was her choice, not mine. She knows how I feel. Mary Margaret had a feeling there was more to this than either of them had told her. Her attention was brought back to the bar when Emma had returned to the bar.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Emma exclaimed again, her face animated with her excitement at seeing her Boston friend here in Perry.

“So you keep saying,” Mary Margaret laughed at the blonde practically bouncing on the bar stool in front of her.

“Hey, Jefferson, come over here,” Emma waved at her best friend who was serving a customer further down the bar.  “You have to meet my good friend, Mary Margaret Nolan.”

“We’ve already meet, Swan,” Jefferson called back, smiling at her. He hadn’t seen her this excited in weeks.

Emma turned back to Mary Margaret. “Not that I’m complaining, but why are you here?”

Mary Margaret took a deep breath before jumping in with both feet. “It’s Killian.”

Emma’s smile immediately dissipated at those words, the enthusiasm falling from her, and her eyes seeming to glaze over. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her heartbeat practically doubling.

“It’s bad,” Mary Margaret continued, and when Emma’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened in shock, Mary Margaret quickly backtracked. “No, Emma, I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. Killian is fine… well, physically fine. Now mentally? That’s a different matter altogether.”

Emma lowered her hands and exhaled slowly. Killian was okay. “He’s okay?” she voiced her concerns, her tone timid.

“That’s yet to be decided,” Mary Margaret returned gruffly. “He’s out of control, Emma. We don’t know what to do anymore. He beat up one of his friends because he suggested a good old screw would get him out of his funk.”

Emma straightened at those words, her mind whirling with questions. Did he find someone to screw? Had she been replaced in his bed? Did she really have any say in what he did on a personal level?

She was the one who left him while he practically begged her to stay. Hell, he did beg her to stay, and even asked her to marry him. Her very first marriage proposal, not that she expected many, was a rushed thing in an airport, and she turned it down. 

Emma looked shyly at the brunette beside her, bracing herself as she asked. “And did he?” She tried to make her voice nonchalant, but it came out more like a strangled cry.

Mary Margaret smiled knowingly at her friend. “I honestly don’t know, Emma,” she returned, and when Emma whimpered slightly, she added, “But knowing Killian like I know him, and seeing what you two shared over Christmas, I would say the chances are incredibly slim.”

Emma exhaled again, the relief washing over her, and then she shook her head. “Not that I really have a say in who he sleeps with,” she said with a wave of her hand, brushing her emotions aside with a roll of her eyes. “I mean, I gave up that right the minute I stepped on that plane, the second I refused to stay with him.”

“Emma. Please. Breathe.” Mary Margaret said, a gentle hand landing on the blonde’s shoulder.

Emma eye’s refocused on Mary Margaret, and she gave the brunette a shaky smile, “Sorry.”

“Okay, ladies,” Jefferson grinned as he finally moved down the bar to them. “What can I get you?”

“Tequila,” Emma returned quickly. “Lots and lots of tequila.”

“Oh no,” Mary Margaret denied with a slight laugh. “None of that for me. I still haven’t recovered from the last time I drank the demon drink with you.”

“Jefferson,” Emma said with all seriousness, “you are looking at a bona fide tequila virgin.”

Jefferson looked at Mary Margaret in disbelief, his eyes widening at Emma’s statement.

“Well, at least she was until she met me,” Emma added with a beaming grin.

“The drinking was just fine,” Mary Margaret said, trying to cover her embarrassment. “It was the after effects that I don’t really want to repeat.”

“You make her the hangover drink?” Jefferson probed Emma seriously.

“Of course,” Emma returned indignantly. “I am the kind of person who looks after her hungover friends, not someone who ditches them in the middle of a forest with nothing but a pack of moist wipes and a pair of sneakers.”

“Hey, we could have left you to walk home in those four inch heels you were wearing, but we gave you comfortable foot attire.”

“Whatever,” Emma answered with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Oh my God! Did that really happen?” Mary Margaret queried, a slow grin forming on her lips at the mere thought of it. 

Emma nodded, catching Mary Margaret’s infectious grin and her own lips curling up as she remembered. “Yeah, we were celebrating my first major bust.”

At Jefferson’s snort, Emma quickly turned back to him, her index finger pointing at him. “And you can just keep your big mouth shut.”

“Sure, whatever, Swan,” Jefferson smirked before turning and lifting a bottle of tequila from the shelf behind him and placing it in front of the blonde, along with two shot glass.

Mary Margaret looked at the glass and back up to Jefferson, ready to protest, but smiled instead when he placed another bottle of beer before her with a wink.

“Geez, Jefferson,” Emma moaned reaching for the bottle. “She’s a married woman.”

“Doesn’t hurt, though, does it?” Jefferson replied cheekily.

“You’re incorrigible,” Emma returned with a shake of her head as she poured both herself and Jefferson a shot, her eyes noting Mary Margaret’s beer of choice. She raised her glass, and Jefferson mimicked her movement, the two clinking their glasses together.

She tossed the golden liquid back quickly, and then turned back to Mary Margaret. “So, how can I help?” At Mary Margaret’s confused look, she shifted her eyes and nodded to the bottle in her companion’s hand. Mary Margaret flashed her eyes to Jefferson and then back to Emma.

“Okay, here’s the deal. Killian is a basket case, Emma. I mean we are talking total full-on meltdown. He hardly leaves his offices, he’s working his employees into early graves, and Regina is threatening to either quit or lead a mutiny.”

Emma looked down at her empty shot, the laughter they had just shared rushing from her. “I’m sorry, Mary Margaret,” she whispered.

“Don’t be sorry, Emma. You shared something wonderful with Killian. I didn’t come here to upset you or to bring you down with Killian’s misery.”

“Why did you come to Perry?” Jefferson asked, casting a concerned glance to his friend.

“To invite Emma to a party.”

“A party?” Emma repeated, disbelieving, her brow furrowing at the thought. “Haven’t you heard of those new-fangled things called telephones, or email, or Facebook and Twitter?”

“You’re funny, Swan,” Mary Margaret returned deadpan, picking up on Jefferson’s name for Emma. “Maybe you could add a skit into your evening work.”

Emma just huffed at that while pouring herself another shot.

“Seriously though,” Mary Margaret continued. “If I had done any of those, there would be a good chance I would be ignored, brushed off, or you would come up with some lame excuse why you can’t come.”

“Whose party?” Emma asked, before knocking the shot back quickly.

“It’s a launch party for a new beer from The Storybrooke Brewing Company.”

“Wait. Hold up,” Jefferson interrupted their conversation. “You know someone who works for The Storybrooke Brewing Company?” he asked Mary Margaret.

At her slight nod, he leaned his elbow on the bar counter. “Just how well do you know this person, and are they high enough within the company to get me discount on my orders?”

“Well, I know the owner pretty well,” Mary Margaret said before turning her head to Emma and smirking, “but not as intimately as Emma.”

Jefferson looked at Emma as if she had stolen his life savings, kicked him in the balls, and killed his puppy. “The guy you fucked in Boston is the owner of The Storybrooke Brewing Company?”

“Could you be any cruder?” Emma asked sarcastically.

“Okay, sorry, the guy you screwed, banged, nailed...”

“Alright, stop,” Emma demanded, holding her hand out to him, though she was smiling.

“You have to go to that party, Ems,” Jefferson insisted before looking again at Mary Margaret. “Wait, a launch party. There is a new beer coming out?”

Mary Margaret nodded.

“Emma, you get your cute ass on that plane, go and roll around with that guy, and get me a deal on my beer,” Jefferson answered sincerely, and Emma was sure he would have pushed her out the door if it would help. 

“Jefferson!” Emma cried indignantly.

“Oh, come on, Swan. It’s not like you don’t want to,” Jefferson retorted.

“Well, I’m not above drugging her to get her on board,” Mary Margaret told Jefferson conspiratorially.

“Oh, I like that idea,” Jefferson returned, again leaning his elbows on the bar counter.

“Which is why I came in person,” Mary Margaret informed him. “Jefferson, it’s up to us to sort this crap out that our friends have created.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how many more of those sappy songs she listens to I can deal with,” Jefferson countered.

“Hey, you guys do realize I’m right here, right?” Emma interrupted them after she had swallowed another mouthful of liquor. 

“Hey, Jefferson,” Mary Margaret said, suddenly brightening. “Do you want to come to the launch?”

Jefferson looked at the small brunette in front of him, his mouth hanging open in shock for a moment before he leaned closer to her. “This whole marriage thing between you and your husband, that’s pretty solid, right?”

“Yes,” Mary Margaret laughed. “I’m a very happily married woman.”

“Shit,” Jefferson grinned good-heartedly, before slapping his hands together and rubbing them. “When do we leave?”

~*~


	2. February 13th

February 13th

Emma couldn’t believe she was doing this. That she was on a plane, flying over the country to see Killian again. Her heart fluttered at that thought, at the same time as her stomach rolled. What if that fire between them had died? What if he didn’t ever want to see her again after she had effectively ripped out his heart and stomped all over it?

But, what if he held the same burning need within him that she did? That all-consuming need to see him, touch him, hold him?

It had taken Mary Margaret, Jefferson, and all their most creative imaginations to get her on that plane, promising her different incentives. She wasn’t ready to see him again, not yet. It still hurt too much. And why bother when they would only have to separate again. Could her heart take that abuse again? Would she have the strength to walk away once more?

In the end, with Jefferson’s threat of calling Elsa and having the third member of their little group list every reason why she should get on that plane, and with the added bonus of a window seat, she agreed to accompany Mary Margaret back to her home town. Emma was well aware a call from Elsa, on her repeated favorite subject of ‘get Emma a life’, was something she could live the rest of her life without.

Then she and Mary Margaret had made a frantic search of her closet looking for a dress suitable for a beer launch party. Emma dreaded her return to her small apartment, knowing they had both tossed her clothes around like lunatics and just left them where they lay as they rushed to the airport.

She leaned her head against the window, her eyes unfocused as she watched the clouds glide beneath as the plane flew above.  Her imagination had brought her to this point so many times during the past six weeks. The moment she saw Killian again. She would declare her love for him, something she regretted not telling him before she left. And though Killian had never said those terrifying yet liberating words himself, she was sure he felt it just as she did.

She turned her gaze to Mary Margaret who had shifted in her seat between Jefferson and herself, then leaned forward a little further to see Jefferson. His head was back against the chair headrest, his mouth hanging open slightly, a rumbling snore emitting from him.

Emma couldn’t stop her smile at the sight.

She turned back to Mary Margaret. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Don’t you want to see Killian?” Mary Margaret asked, suddenly unsure about forcing Emma to do something she wasn’t comfortable with.

“Of course I want to see him,” Emma returned. “I just feel like we are ambushing him or something, and you know as well as I do he won’t appreciate it.”

Mary Margaret gave Emma a sly smile. “I’m sure he’ll forgive us. Sure, he might piss and whine about it, but eventually he will calm and see this is for his own good.”  Mary Margaret cast a sideways glance at Emma. “And of course, you need a good shake, too.”

“Me!” Emma cried out indignantly.

“Yes, you. You are just as bad as Killian, wasting away to practically nothing and listening to songs about a lost love, when all you have to do was hop on a plane. Jeez, all you really needed to do in the first place was not leave him.”

Emma opened her mouth, ready to give a retort to Mary Margaret’s comments, but stopped herself. Mary Margaret was right. It was her decision to get on that plane, and her choice not to contact Killian, just to sit and wallow in her own misery. She admitted to herself that she wondered if he was just as miserable as she was and judging from Mary Margaret’s revelations the night before, Emma now knew that he was just as tortured as she was.

All too soon they landed at Logan Airport and Emma found herself engulfed in the warm bearhug of David Nolan.

“Thank God you’re here,” he said into her hair as he gripped her tighter. He pulled back slightly. “You feel like you need a good, Mary Margaret style, home cooked meal.”

“What are you trying to say?” Emma asked with a wry smile.

“You need fattening up,” he grinned back at her as he turned to shake Jefferson’s hand when  Mary Margaret introduced him. It wasn’t too long before they were heading for the I-95 and Mary Margaret’s home town.

Emma grew more nervous as the miles passed, again staring out at the passing scenery, half listening to the comments passing back and forth between Mary Margaret, David, and Jefferson. Two and a half hours later David pulled up in front of a shabby chic building advertised as ‘Granny’s Diner’.

“Great,” Jefferson said with a smile. “I’m starved.”

“Well, Granny’s lasagna is legendary but she also runs a B&B in the house behind,” David told them. “I took the liberty of booking a couple rooms for you guys.”

“Thanks,” Emma acknowledged as she followed Mary Margaret and climbed from the car, with Jefferson also exiting the vehicle and stretching.

“It’s nothing spectacular but it's clean and it’s comfortable,” Mary Margaret reasoned.

“And we were lucky to get the rooms,” David added. “Killian’s launch party is a big thing and Storybrooke a small town. There isn’t a whole lot of options when it comes to places to stay.”

“You could always stay with us,” Mary Margaret fussed, wringing her hands slightly. “If you’d prefer.”

“Here is fine, Mary Margaret,” Emma reassured her with a smile. “Don’t worry.”

Mary Margaret shook herself slightly as they turned to head up the path to enter the diner. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m a little nervous. I’ve never been this devious before.” She inspected the diner quickly as they entered. “I just hope Killian appreciates all this.”

Emma turned away from Mary Margaret when she mentioned Killian’s name, feigning interest in the décor, but in truth she was also anticipating Killian’s reaction to her being here. After all, he hadn’t bothered to invite her himself. Maybe he didn’t want to see her again. She forced herself to stop thinking in the negative. She was here now, she might as well enjoy it.

They were seated quickly by an over enthusiastic tall brunette, her hair streaked with red that tumbled in luscious curls down her back, wearing a rather indecent uniform for a family establishment.

“Where did you disappear to?” the waitress asked Mary Margaret. “One minute you’re here and we’re making plans for a girly evening, and then David tells me you’re off on some secret mission.”

Mary Margaret gave her a quick hug before sliding into the booth beside David. “I’m sorry, Ruby. I had to go retrieve a secret weapon to help pull Killian from his funk.”

“Seriously?” Ruby replied with a shocked expression, her head automatically swiveling to the two newcomers in the booth. “Well, I hope it works. You know Killian had Floyd threatening to resign last week all because he thought his burger was overcooked.”

Mary Margaret looked at Emma. “Told you,” she said with a small smile.

Emma simply studied the diner’s menu, not particularly liking the scrutinizing look this Ruby was giving her.

Ruby gave a short nod, as if she’d come to some conclusion, as she pulled out her order pad. “Okay, what can I get you?”

They enjoyed a scrumptious lunch, Jefferson ordered two plates of the lasagna, and they chatted about mundane things. It seemed none of them wanted to bring up Killian and the foul mood he’d been in during the past month.

***

Across town, Killian stalked through the large barn-like event room once more, mumbling to himself about decorations and uniformed servers. “Regina!” he called out after spotting her talking to some hired hand helping set up for the evening’s event.

Regina turned her head to watch him bear down on her, still talking to the man. She frowned before dismissing the worker and turned to take whatever verbal diarrhea he was about spurt at her. “Yes?”

“I thought I said I wanted pale green for the decorations, to match the labeling on the bottles,” he spat at her.

“Yes, you did, but I thought a more striking green would look better. The pale green would look too washed out in this room with this lighting,” she turned as she spoke, moving toward the long side wall of the building where men were setting up barrels of the beer that was premiering tonight. “I let you have your way with the labeling, it’s your creation after all, but for tonight, I’m better at deciding what’s best.” She paused to look at him. “That’s why you hired me in the first place,” she reminded him.

“I don’t like it,” Killian grumbled. In truth, he loved it, but the color was too close to how Emma’s eyes sparkled when they were making love. He’d chosen the pale green for the labeling to reflect her eyes as they were normally, but the decorations were a harsh reminder of what he had lost when she’d walked onto that plane and out of his life.

He’d played with the idea of inviting her to the launch party, after all, she’d been a huge influence in his completion of the beer. But his fear that she would turn him down, again, was something he couldn’t bring himself to go through. Not again, not when his heart still hadn’t overcome her first refusal. He brushed his hand through his hair, making the strands stand up slightly. He knew he shouldn’t take his frustrations out on Regina, on anyone who crossed his path, but he just couldn’t get a handle on himself and his emotions.  He’d decided that after this evening, he was going to take his boat and set sail for a week or more. Get away completely so he could settle himself.

“Killian,” Regina said gently, laying a hand on his arm. “Why don’t you go home and relax for a few hours. It’s going to be crazy in here tonight. Everything is in place, the beer is awesome, you just need to…”

Killian pulled his arm out of her grasp. “Don’t tell me what I need to do, Regina. You work for me, remember, not the other way around.” But he did turn and stalk off, leaving Regina with a slight smile on her face. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, praying to any God who would listen that Mary Margaret had pulled off her mercy mission and they would soon have the relaxed, laid-back Killian returned to them, instead of the angry and hurt bear that currently inhabited his body.

“Excuse me, Ms. Mills?” Regina turned and went back into completing the finishing touches for the launch party

***

Emma stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, wishing she’d had time to find a better outfit. She supposed the gold dress was suitable for the evening, but not being one to attend such celebrations regularly, this one being her first, she wasn’t sure. Mary Margaret had assured her it was perfect, and she didn’t have much of a choice, so… the gold dress it was. She brushed her hand against the material of the thigh length skirt, then pulled a length of her slightly curled hair forward and over her shoulder, the same time as knuckles pounded on her door.

“Come in,” she called out, reaching for her lipstick. She watched as the door opened and Jefferson strolled in. He looked incredibly handsome in his navy suit and pale gray shirt. “You scrub up well, Jefferson,” she said as she applied the lipstick, an art she’d perfected over the years.

Jefferson let out a low whistle. “Right back at ya, Swan,” he grinned. “This Killian dude would be foolish to let you go again.”

Emma turned and smiled weakly at her friend. “I’m not here to …” she paused and exhaled loudly. “I don’t know what I’m here for,” she said as she sat, carefully, on the bed. “What am I doing here, Jefferson?”

“Emma, this man has had you turned inside out since you got back from Boston. I don’t pretend to know what happened between the two of you, besides the obvious, but if this guy can fix you, can bring back the Emma Swan we know and love, then I’m all for traveling the country to get the two of you together.”

“Together,” Emma huffed out. “We can’t be together, we live in different parts of the country.”

“There are jobs in this neck of the woods you know, Swan.”

“I can’t just move here,” she said, scandalously.

“Why not?” Jefferson pushed. “If you two have half of what I think you do, why not?”

“Because…”

“See, you don’t have a good reason,” he smiled.

“Because I can’t upheave my life because of a guy again, look how well that turned out the last time.” She felt the anger rise in her, wishing Jefferson would just leave it alone.

“Hey, if this guy is like Neal, then yeah, forget about him. But don’t let what Neal did to you dictate how you live your future.” He paused. “What does this Killian make you feel, Emma?”

She smiled before she even knew she did.

“See,” Jefferson gloated, “even just thinking about him has a smile on your face, something I have hardly seen since after Christmas. Okay, so don’t make any rash decisions right now, let me meet him, get an idea of him, and then we’ll have this discussion again.”

Emma nodded as she stood again and grabbed the golden wrap she had to go with her dress.

Mary Margaret and David were waiting in the diner section of Granny’s business After the greetings, and expressing how great the other looked, they made their way down to the docks and The Storybrooke Brewing Company.

The event space was almost barn-like in appearance, large wooden beams overhead and brick exposed walls. One long wall was lined with barrels in cross stands, and central on the wall above them, a large curtained area covered something not to been seen yet. Large portable bars graced a shorter wall, serving drinks to the many people already assembled.

The room was scattered with round tables surrounded by chairs, with wait and bar staff dressed in black slacks or skirts, with a white shirt, moving with ease in every direction.  Soft music played through unseen speakers, accompanying the constant murmuring of people’s voices, greeting, talking, speculating on the new beer.

Jefferson clasped his hands in front of him, rubbing his palms eagerly. “Now, this is my kind of party,” he said gleefully, and with a wink to Emma he was gone, absorbed by the crowd.

Emma grabbed a tight hold of Mary Margaret’s arm. “Don’t leave me alone,” she whispered as they moved farther into the space.

“Don’t worry,” David smiled, half wrapping his arm reassuringly around her shoulder before spotting someone he knew. In a flash, he was gone.

Emma and Mary Margaret looked at each other before they smiled. Lifting her eyes to the curtained wall, Emma asked, “What’s with the curtain?”

“Killian has kept the name of this beer particularly secret. I think only he, Regina, and Robin, his brewer, know what it’s called,” Mary Margaret answered, guiding them both deeper into the crowds, smiling at people as they went. “He hasn’t even told me or David.”

“God, I hope it’s not a pirate thing again,” Emma said. “He really needs to branch out.”

“Maybe he has, maybe that’s why he hasn’t told anyone. Killian likes to keep things to himself, especially if he’s unsure of what reaction will come. Though, I’m sure Regina wouldn’t let him name it something completely ridiculous. She can be just as narrow-minded as he can be. They make an …,” she hesitated briefly, “… unlikely business partnership but somehow it all works.”

On the other side of the room, Killian pulled distractedly at his vest and then his jacket. He’d refused to go with the full suit as Regina had suggested, and paired his deep blue button-down shirt with a dark vest and dark jeans, a suit jacket finishing his outfit. Even in his jeans, he still felt overdressed.

The room was bustling, it appeared all had accepted the invitation to attend the launch. His feet shifted as he felt a nervousness he hadn’t expected. This was a new sensation, not a repeat from other launch parties. This one, this new beer, was special to him, and he felt he was offering a piece of himself for everyone to look at, to speculate upon.

If only _she_ was here to enjoy the evening with him. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel as out of place in his own establishment as he did in that moment.

The crowd parted, somewhat biblically he thought, and there she was, maybe three feet away, seemingly shimmering in gold. He didn’t, couldn’t, believe it. That all he’d hoped for had blown his way. He turned his head away, focusing on something else, then, almost timidly, looked back, expecting the vision of her to be gone.  But it wasn’t. And then she was smiling and taking a step toward him.

“Emma…” He wasn’t sure the word left his lips, but even forming her name made his heart beat rapidly.

A loud noise erupted in his ears and he mutely looked around him, his surroundings confusing him for a second. Then reality hit, it was the launch of his new beer and while he’d been lost in the vision of Emma, it seemed the night had progressed to the part where he needed to address his guests. A hand pulled on his arm and he almost wrenched his limb free, determined to keep his gaze on the vision before him, but the urgent whisper of his name had his head turning.

David’s pale blue eyes met wide blue. “She’ll still be here once you’re done with the formal part of the evening,” he encouraged, and Killian nodded, his eyes swinging back to Emma once more before turning and heading for the small platform erected at one end of the room.

Regina smiled at him, applauding with the rest of the room as Killian took his place in the center of the dais. He cleared his throat as a hand absently lifted to scratch just below his ear. “Thanks for coming,” he said into the microphone placed on the stand before him. “You all know how much I hate standing up here and talking, spilling all about how much hard work creating this new product was, so I’m not gonna do that. I would like to thank a couple of people though. Robin, for all his hard work in getting the right ingredients to hit with the right amount of malt flavors needed for this beer, he truly is the magic behind the alcohol. He initially wasn’t happy with me changing the base of this beer from a pale ale to a bock, but he finally remembered I pay his wage and between the two of us, by hook or by crook, we created what you see now.”

Killian paused as the room exploded in applause and Robin stepped forward to just below the platform and waved to the crowd.

“And Regina,” Killian continued after the noise had died somewhat, and he turned to gesture to the regal woman beside him. “You all know how much she puts up with working for me, with me. She pushes when most would back away, she encourages when she feels me faltering, and she argues when she thinks she right. Which, let’s face it, she is, 75% of the time.” That caused the people below him to chuckle a little. “Okay, I know you’re all thinking, bloody well get on with it, so I’d like to present the new craft beer from The Storybrooke Brewing Company – Captain Swan’s Bock.” His eyes held Emma’s as he called out the name, and his heart leapt when a smile spread across her lips.

Servers appeared as if by magic, each holding a tray laden with testing cups of the dark brew. Emma absentmindedly picked one up and brought it to her lips as she watched Killian make his way back to her, his progress being hampered by people wanting to congratulate him on his newest creation. A hint of chocolate tickled her nostrils and she cautiously looked at the small cup. There was definitely something else she could detect in its bouquet, something that immediately comforted her, and she took a tentative sip. The flavors burst on the tongue and she almost moaned in pleasure, her eyes closing. Cinnamon, she thought with a smile.

“So, what do you think?”

Killian’s voice floated over her and she slowly opened her eyes. He looked expectantly at her, like a little boy eager for praise, his eyebrow raised in anticipation. God, she’d missed him, missed his cheeky smile, and that mischievous twinkle that would dance in his endlessly blue eyes. Missed the way his easy nature and musical British accent would almost caress her when he spoke. Missed the way she fit too-easily against his body, as if she were made for him, and he her. She took another drink, willing her heart beat to return to somewhere in its normal parameters. She swallowed the drink and swept her tongue over her lips.

“Captain Swan’s Bock?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he grinned to her. “Robin had a near heart attack when I returned from Boston demanding changes be made to what we had brewed. I just wanted something…” he paused, scratching at his ear again, a delightfully shy action she adored.

“I like it,” she finally said. “Love it, in fact.”

Killian exhaled loudly, as though he’d been holding his breath until she gave her verdict.

“What are you doing here, Swan?” he asked, but there was no malice in his voice, maybe just a hint of wonder and amazement.

“Well, someone told me you’d turned into a bear of man since returning from Boston, and that you were being unbearable to all around you. Again!”

“Ah, Swan, you know you can’t believe everything you hear,” he returned with some disgust.

“Mary Margaret came to Florida specially to ask me to come,” she said simply.

“Blanchard should butt out,” Killian shot back.

“So, I guess my invite got lost in the mail?” She purposely ignored his last remark.

“Well…I….”

“Seeing as I had some influence with this new beer, I would think I’d have had a gilded invitation.”

“Swan, I…”

“It’s okay, Killian,” she relented, placing her hand on his arm. “I understand.”

Killian looked down at her hand resting on his arm and it was as if he could feel her touch in his skin. She followed where he was staring and instinctively pulled her hand away.  

“Emma,” he whispered.

She looked up to him, falling into the blueness of his eyes.

“I’m glad you came,” he said with faint smile. “We need to talk.” And before Emma could agree or disagree, he was steering her away from the party, out the barn-like doors and into the night.

She shivered as soon as the night air hit her. Winter evenings in Maine were completely different from the mildness of Florida.

“Shit,” Killian mumbled as he shrugged out of his blue suit jacket. “Sorry.” And he swung the material over her shoulders.

Emma slipped her arms into the warmth that suddenly enveloped her and automatically inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of Killian that now surrounded her. “Thanks,” she whispered as she unconsciously rubbed her cheek against the fabric of the lapel.

“Bloody Hell, it’s cold,” he breathed out. “Maybe we should go back inside.”

“It's fine, Killian,” Emma reassured him and watched as he looked about the area. He grabbed her hand, “Come on,” he coaxed, leading her away from the large gathering, Emma hurried to keep pace with him in her heels.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Somewhere we can talk,” he answered, his voice almost lost in the night air.

“What about your party?”

“That doesn’t matter.” He stopped and turned back to her. “You matter, this matters.”

Emma simply nodded, the feeling behind his words overwhelming her slightly.

He moved quickly again, away from the warehouse and brew house of his company, toward the edge of the bay and Emma was slightly worried until she saw a house, stark white against the dark night.

“My place,” he said as they climbed the wooden stairs leading to a wide veranda that wrapped around the house.  He opened the door and led her inside. They entered through the kitchen of the house, but thanks to the open floor plan, Emma could see the majority of the downstairs areas. It looked simple but homey. Ancient wood covered the floors of the large open plan space, a brown leather couch faced a working fireplace and Killian guided her to that before he started to poke at the dying embers, stoking life into them and placing another log strategically to ignite and fill the room with warmth.

He turned back to her, and before he could stop himself, he gathered her into his arms, holding her close, as if she would disappear at any moment.

Emma sighed into his embrace, wrapped her arms around his waist and luxuriated in the feel of him again. They stood like that for endless minutes until Killian pulled back. He held her at arm’s length for a few moments, his eyes moving quickly over her face and body, checking for signs of neglect and anything that had changed over the last six weeks.

“You’ve lost weight,” he stated hoarsely.

“So have you,” she returned. “What a pair we are,” she added glibly.

“I should have followed you back to Tallahassee, or wherever you disappeared to,” he stated simply.

“I never expected you to,” she smiled.

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed. His hand lifted and his fingers threaded into her hair, the softness just as he remembered. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she said, her hand cupping his jaw line.

He couldn’t hold back anymore, frankly he thought he’d shown the restraint of a nobleman, and he took her lips with his own, pulling her back in and reacquainting himself with the softness that was just her.

Emma lifted onto her tiptoes, her body pressing up against him, as her hands moved over him, pinning him beneath her lips. A warm mouth opened willingly for her, a soft, satiny tongue greeted hers. He could taste her deep inside his mouth, a faint hint of his chocolatey-cinnamon beer, and the unique taste of her. Their palates rolled into each other until Killian couldn't tell where one stopped and the next started. His eyes closed and he savored the movement of her tongue in his mouth. He rested his weight on her slightly and tangled his fingers deep into the incredible sensuousness of her hair, the silky strands tickling his fingertips. His head still cupped firmly in her hands, Killian drew away from the kiss and stared into her eyes. They were soft and gentle, full of happiness and excitement. Killian groaned and began a gentle worship of her face.

He heard the low gasp as he started sprinkling random kisses across Emma's face; first on her nose, moving to an eyelid, tracing down a cheekbone. He tasted with his lips and tongue, creating a mental map, following it to find the next spot of sweetness. His lips brushed softly across her eyelashes elicited a soft moan, as they did when they moved to nuzzle at her delicate ears. Too long. He felt starved, starved for her. It was a relief to feel her, finally in his arms again.

Killian re-catalogued each sound, taste, and texture, his mind transferring the raw data into a crystal-clear image of Emma. He didn’t want to stop. He traced around her kiss-swollen lips with the tip of his tongue, then licked a path across Emma's chin, noting the roughness and red he left on her face from his scruff.

Emma studied his face, her eyes opening to search it as her fingers had. Her mouth followed the path of her eyes and fingers. The texture of his whiskers changed, the further down Killian's throat she went, smoothing out and disappearing as she reached his Adam's apple bobbing so temptingly in front of her. Emma groaned as she licked across the tender bump, then suckled it. She had noticed him this way before, but it was in a daze. Not anymore. Nope.

Killian's own body was responding to the breathy moans, whispers, and quiet pleas; he was hard and throbbing against her, his body demanding release. He growled as Emma arched against him, brushing their bodies together. She was making it hard for him to remember himself and not take advantage of the situation.

Then with a quick happy laugh, she was nuzzling in the nook between his shoulder and neck. Her arms holding him tight.

“We need to talk,” he whispered, his voice husky with his want for her.

“Yes, we do,” she agreed and then swallowed, her mouth and throat suddenly seeming too dry.

He pulled back a little, just to look at her again. “Tomorrow,” he said gruffly as he kissed her again.

They moved as one, removing clothing as they went, until he had her pressed against the floor before the now roaring fire. As their kiss deepened, he moved his hand to her bare hip. He marveled at how soft her skin felt. It was like touching the most delicate of flowers. The silkiness of rose petals.

His mind was racing with emotion. He wanted to feel her body, comfort her, and just touch her knowing she was here, with him. But he feared the consequences. The gorgeous woman lying under him had tugged at his insides almost from the moment he saw her. Killian had told himself to _quit acting like an idiot in the thralls of his first real crush._ But this was no crush, and ‘enthralled’ didn’t even cover it.

He told himself that this wasn’t allowed, and that it was simply a setup for pain, both for her and for him. Neither of them seemed able to handle much more in the way of anguish. But it had been so long since he’d touched her, felt her. He lost all sense of why he would want to protest something happening and just gave in to the heat he felt, the ache to not be alone.

She pulled his face to meet hers, and what he saw there, he understood. It was bigger than anything and it had no name. Their eyes refused to break the connection again, and Killian noticed that hers, normally a soft sea green, were now a deep vibrant green.. This thing with her eyes changing color turned him on even more, and he engulfed her with his lips, pushing his tongue deep down into her mouth.

Emma rolled them and pushed him down onto his back and got on her knees beside him. She ran her hands down his chest, dragging her nails through his chest hair, and started to move the muscles under his skin, testing them for firmness and give. She smiled at the gasp he let escape. She pushed his hands out of the way as he kept trying to reach for her, control her. Taking him in her hands, she touched the larger vein that ran along his shaft, running her fingers along the sides, loving the feel of him in her hands again.

She leaned over and licked the tip, then took him into her mouth and began to slowly suckle, working her tongue around him as she moved him in and out of her mouth. He began to twitch under her touch and he found himself reaching for her. She slowly withdrew her lips and sat up fully.

She smiled at him again as he watched her pull his hands off her body. She was restraining him lightly by the wrists.  She was savoring him, re-cataloging every inch as he had, not just his penis, but the entire length of his body. She closed her eyes, and like a blind man, she remapped him in her mind. He stared at her naked body before him and reached out, pulling her to him and kissing her again. He flipped her over onto her back and started to work on reacquainting himself with her as well, still kissing her.

Killian stopped and took in her shape, a little sharper and taut. He ran his hands slowly down her side, over every curve and line. He slowly leaned over and took one of her aching breasts into his mouth. He suckled one as he caressed the other and he could feel her breathing getting heavier. Turned on. Her breasts. He remembered her reaction from before, the increased movement of her lower body that he could bring her to orgasm this way alone. Of that he knew.

"Oh, dammit, Killian..." she whispered. Killian laughed as the robust stream of obscenities left her mouth. She was very earthy in her reactions, and he liked it.

His body grew even hotter at hearing his name said in such a way by her once more. He kissed his way up her neck and back to her face. Her eyes were now such a dark green they bordered on black, and the fire and heat in them didn’t look nice, didn’t look sweet. He knew what this meant and he kissed her hard as he entered her.

She gasped as his body penetrated hers. He waited for her to breathe, to adjust to him once more. It felt good, like coming home after too long away. Then he began to move slowly. He knew he wasn't going to be able to control himself long before he would break and the way she moaned with every stroke was making it even harder. Control. Gentleness wasn’t an easy trait for him, but he wanted to savor this, to enjoy the feel of her surrounding him once again. Her nails scored his back, and the blackness of her eyes echoed through to him. In a flood of overwhelming connection, he felt a release almost like a flood of delight.

She pulled her legs up around him and pushed him in further. She pulled herself up to his neck and bit it. Hard. Killian gave a grunt of pain, and a shout of orgasmic rush. Then she moved to his ear and began to nibble on it. She paused and whispered, "Harder, harder, harder......"

He gave her what she wanted and began to thrust harder, he watched as she began to lose her battle and go over the edge. He followed her there and they collapsed into each other, her body made slick by the combination of his sweat and her own. Killian looked down at her heaving body under his, pink with exertion and still joined to him. He could feel the orgasm rushing along his spine, and he felt boneless and exhausted, but his body was still hard, still part of hers. Her inner muscles were riding the wave of the orgasm, tightening and gripping him hard.

Killian lost track of time. He moved to pull her on top of him. Groaning, his hands encouraged her to keep going, resisting the desire to let his own eyes just roll back in his head and let blissful unconsciousness take him away. He could feel the bite she had left on him, and he liked it. A lot.

Emma stared at him, taking in the sincerity of his gaze. Smiling wickedly, she moved over him, making him moan as she started pushing down harder and harder on him taking more of his body into hers.

“You are going to be so filthy tired, Mr. Jones,” she promised breathlessly.

“Oh baby…” Killian whispered, as he laid his head back and placed his hands on her hips to help her keep the fast-paced rhythm. They were far from over.

A long time later, she flipped them and ended up on top once more. The fire had died to embers in all those hours of rolling around on the floor in front of it, the heat between them was now the only thing keeping them warmed. Straddling him, her mouth moved up his neck, then she sat up and looked at him intensely. Her eyes were unreadable and searing.Living in the vortex of her passion, his eyes narrowed and darkened as well, watching through slits he waited for her next move.

She placed her hand on his chest, firmly holding him down as her eyes traveled along his torso. Her lower body slid down to take him inside her again and her knees pulled in to hold him tight as she squeezed him hard.

Killian groaned. Licking his lips he could hardly breathe, the wave of the last orgasm was still moving across him and she was exciting him beyond anything he could name or understand.

Looking back to him, her eyes were heavy and drugged. She moved one of his hands over his head and pinned it to the floor. As she leaned down into him, he smiled up at the dim light surrounding her, taking in the intensity of her gaze. It unleashed something inside him, something hot and primitive. Raw. They mated as if in a battle, hard and bordering on painful. The more they searched for release the more powerful their connection became, an explosion of violent and intense pleasure. It was the touch that lived on, etched in their bodies. The taste that became a thirst, an addiction, and a sense of dreams realized.

When she moved again, he winced. “You okay?” she asked, her voice hoarse from hours of moaning and calling out his name.

“The floor is bloody hard, love,” he returned, flexing the hand that she held above his head.

“You’re the one who started this here,” she mumbled as she leaned down into him again, unable to resist the pulse point that throbbed on his neck.

“I intend to finish it upstairs,” he gasped out, and before she could truly settle into marking him again he shifted, leaning up against her and struggling to stand, he pulled her up with him.

Up the stairs they went, Killian pulling Emma off her feet and whirling her into his arms as they reached the top. The bed. It was too far, but he made it. He was on top of Emma then, kissing those lips just as he'd been dreaming of for weeks, feeling the mass of golden hair against his cheek. Emma's hands clutched at his arms, trying to hold back and let him lead as he surged into her again.

***

Emma turned over when the sensation of his fingertips against her thigh woke her, and looked at the clock. It was still the middle of the night. She was tired. Ignoring him, she tried going back to sleep.

“Emma…”

“No. Wake me in a couple of hours. It’s too early.”

Killian sighed. Scooting down into the bed, he turned her in his arms and moved his mouth down her neck.

“Not going to work. Go away.”

Killian ignored her and kept moving downward, settling on her breasts, the right one and then the left, taking extra care to painfully nip the tender bud of the right one hard enough to almost send her into an orgasm. Her breasts were her downfall. She was so sensitive, and she liked it hot and a little rough. Her entire body tightened.

“Damn, you…” she said in a husky whisper.

Killian smiled as he moved on down, pulling the skin of her stomach into his mouth to nip not so gently. She was squirming beneath his mouth, under his hands, as her body ignored the instructions of her brain. The dichotomous traitor. Her brain was demanding rest, but her evil body was more than just a little awake.

When Killian’s teeth bit her inner thigh, she actually came. Shameful. Blasphemous bastard taking advantages of her weakened state! But he didn’t stop. Emma ran her fingers through his hair calling him all sorts of names between pleas not to stop. Finally giving up on sleep, she held on and enjoyed the early morning ride. There were rides, and then there were rides.

Killian pulled her close as the usual race of electrical impulses exploded along his lower spine and moved upward to the base of his neck. She was limp, clinging to him after her orgasms.

He rubbed his chin on the crown of her head, loving the feel of her body and legs moving along his. The room was cooling again, settling after their frantic mating.

Emma just kissed his chest and settled in. “Sleeping.”

“Emma...” Killian looked down at her and gave up. He suddenly felt like another few hours as well.

***

 


	3. February 14th

February 14th

Emma stirred to the soft sound of waves hitting rocks. She blinked a few times, clearing her eyes and her mind. At first she was confused as to where she was, but the warmth against her back brought the evening back to her in a wave of pleasure. To be back in Killian’s arms again was a thing of dreams, but this time when she woke up, he was still there, the stubble on his chin pricking pleasantly against her back.

She was happy to stay exactly where she was, nestled in the warmth of his embrace and the incredibly fluffy comforter covering them, keeping what she suspected to be a cold morning at bay. Her fingers idly brushed against Killian’s hand and along his forearm, enjoying the feel of his skin under her fingertips. He curled closer to her, and she sighed as she settled again. For a few minutes, she just lay with him, breathing in his sleepy scent, feeling the most content she had in a long time, but soon her bladder demanded she crawl out from the warmth. Gently, she eased out from beneath Killian arms, freezing momentarily when he moved in the bed, and continuing when he settled again.

Her gaze flickered around his room, taking stock of his personal space, as she made a dash for what she hoped was the bathroom. Killian’s bedroom was simple, minimalistic, and precisely what she would expect for him. The nautical theme she had seen downstairs continued here, the décor dark wood, almost what she would expect an old, tall sailing ship to be like. She did a quick double-take on a framed drawing on one wall. What she had thought was an artistic expression of the naked body in fact was an intense, and incredibly real drawing of herself. She eased over to it. She had a hazy memory of waking to find Killian drawing her, and she marveled at how well it had turned out. He was truly talented, in more ways than one.  

Once she was done in the bathroom, she snagged a ratty blue robe on the back of the bathroom door. Naturally, the fabric buried her, but she felt better as she inched back into the main room and over toward the wide, cushioned window seat beneath a large, picture window.

The view beyond made her inhale sharply. This side of the house had sun-starved grass, edged with storm gray boulders that fell into the sea. Beyond that was a wide expanse of steel blue water, the low winter sun glimmering on its surface as it churned against the rocks. To the left was a wooden jetty that led to a good-sized boat, and Emma assumed this to be Killian’s. She admitted feeling a little disappointed in the vessel. From his explanations in Boston, she’d assume it was bigger. But still, it suited Killian completely.

To the far left she could just make out the barn-like structure of his brewing company and realized it was closer than she’d expected. The maddening walk in the cold last evening had made it feel like it was miles away. She vaguely wondered if Mary Margaret or Jefferson had looked for her, and was ashamed that she had left without letting anyone know she was leaving.

The stirring of the body behind her soon made her forget that thought, and she turned to see Killian sitting up in the large bed. His hair was sticking in all directions that made him look ridiculously cute and a soft smile pulled at her lips.

“Morning,” he mumbled sleepily. “What’re you doing over there?”

“Taking in the scenery,” she returned. “I didn’t exactly get the full tour last night.”

Killian smirked at that, his wild blue eyes shining as images from the previous evening flashed before him. He didn’t think he would ever see anything as beautiful as the sight of the firelight dancing against Emma’s sweat-slick skin.

He drew back the comforter and walked over to her at the window seat, completely naked. He cupped her face and delicately pressed his lips to hers. “After,” he said softly.

“After what?” she asked with a knowing grin.

“Bathroom, shower, sex. Not necessarily in that order,” he returned before kissing her again.

“We still need to talk,” Emma echoed the evening’s only conversation.

“And we will, lass. After sex and food. I’m starving.”

“For food or sex?” Emma laughed, remembering all too well his eating habits.

“Both. With you, both. Always.”

Emma trembled slightly at the intensity of his words, knowing she would never be able to leave him again.

They showered separately, with Emma going first, taking turns with the bathroom and dealing with their morning rituals. Emma wasn’t too sure about using his shower gel but figured, one way or another, she would smell of him anyway. She refused to wash her hair though. Killian didn’t have the products that would calm her mess of hair so she figured it would be just as easy to braid it and tie it off with a piece of leather she found in a golden bowl on his dresser.

By the time her hair was under control, Killian was back, his body slick with moisture from the shower and a towel hanging loose around his waist; Emma had returned to his robe after she’d dried herself.

Killian smirked when he caught her staring at his chest, silently pleased it was him that put that distracted look on her face. He moved across the room to her and caught her in his arms.

“Good morning,” he said again, his voice low and husky.

“You said that already,” she mumbled, her gaze still on his chest and a bead of water that tantalizingly glided down his torso.

“Now I can do it properly.” And his lips were on hers, softly, tenderly, as he opened her up to him. She tasted like his toothpaste and he loved that more than he would admit. She felt like home even more than she did before. He knew, if she left him again, it would damage him beyond repair. He needed her to know, needed her to see she was everything to him.

They pulled away and Emma sighed again, so blissfully happy in this moment she didn’t think anything would surpass it.

“The view from this window is breathtaking,” she commented, hoping her voice sounded level and as normal as possible.

Killian caught her by the waist before she turned away to look out the wide window again. “I was seriously hurt because of you. When you left me…” He couldn’t believe he was saying this now, but the words wouldn’t stop spilling from him. His eyes grew hot and dark. “It shredded me, Emma. Cut me open and left me bleeding.”

“Oh, God,” Emma breathed, devastated by his brutal honesty. “Killian.”

“I’m disgusted with myself. The way I treated people, my friends and colleagues, I couldn’t get a handle on my emotions.” He wrapped his arms tight around her, one arm banding her hips while the other crossed her back so he could grip the back of her head. Capturing her, keeping her as close as humanly possible.

Turning her head, she pressed her lips to his throat. “I’m sorry, Killian. So sorry.”

His hand gripped her hair and tilted her head back. “You don’t understand what you mean to me.” He dipped his head and sealed his mouth over hers. It started softly, sweet and teasing, his tongue stroking across her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, her tongue flicking out to touch his. He tilted his head and licked into her mouth. Fast, shallow licks that stirred a simmering desire.

She reached up and slid her fingers into his damp hair, pushing up onto her tiptoes to deepen the kiss. She moaned when he sucked on her tongue, leaning heavily into him. His lips moved against hers, growing wetter and hotter. They ate at each other, growing wilder by the second until they were fucking each other’s mouths, passionately mating with lips and tongues and tiny bites. Emma was panting with hunger for him, her lips slanting over his, needy sounds spilling from her throat.

His kisses were gifts. He kissed with everything he had, with power and passion and hunger and love. He held nothing back, giving everything, exposing everything. Tension gripped his powerful frame, his rough satin skin growing feverishly hot. His tongue was plunging into her mouth, tangling with hers, his quickened breaths mingling with her own and filling her lungs.  Her senses were drenched in him, in his flavor and scent, her mind spinning as she angled her head, seeking a deeper taste. Wanting to lick deeper, suck harder. Devour.

She wanted him so much. All of him. Everything about him.

His hands ran up and down her spine, trembling and restless. He groaned and every fiber within her tightened in response. Tugging at the belt of her borrowed robe, he loosened it, spreading open the halves to grip her bare hips in his hands. He tugged at her lower lips again, sinking his teeth into it, his tongue caressing it. Emma whimpered, wanting more, needing more. No matter how close he was, it was not close enough.

Killian gripped both cheeks of her ass and pulled her up hard against him, his erection like hot steel burning her stomach, despite his towel separating them. He released her lip and took her mouth again, filling her with the taste of his desire and need, his tongue a velvet lash of tormenting pleasure.

A hard shudder shook him and he growled, his hips circling. His fingers bit into her rear and his groan vibrated against her lips. She felt his cock jerk between them, as if eager to move in and find home again. Emma cried out, melting and aching, so insanely aroused by the knowledge she could make him lose control with just a kiss. His grip loosened, his lungs heaved. “You’re mine.”

“Yes, Killian…” She was shaken, emotionally raw and open, but it was the most erotic moment of her life. She touched his chest with her fingers, feeling the coarse hair and the supple skin beneath. He groaned and moved her back and onto the window seat. His body was hot to the touch as his mouth moved ardently down her throat, his hands pushing the robe completely off her so he could settle his hands over her breasts. His lips surrounded one nipple and he lazily suckled, his weight supported by one forearm on the cushioning roll of the window seat, his other hand pushing between her legs. He cupped her, his fingertips gliding over the satin along her seam. His tongue flickered over her nipple, making it harden more and tighten, his teeth sinking lightly into the taut flesh.

“Killian…”

His hair tickled her skin as his open mouth slid over her cleavage, his chest expanding as he breathed her in, nuzzling and wallowing in her scent as she had his. He captured the tip of her other breast with a hard, deep suction. The pleasure shot through her, echoing in the clenching of her sex against his teasing fingertips.

He moved down her torso, licking and nibbling a path across her stomach, the breadth of his shoulders forcing her legs wider until his hot breath ghosted over her slick heat. His nose pressed against her and he inhaled with a groan.

“Emma, I’ve been starved for you.”

Then his mouth was on her. He held her open with his thumbs, his tongue lashing over her throbbing clit. Her back arched with a cry, all her senses painfully acute. Tilting his head, he thrust into the quivering opening of her sex, fucking rhythmically, teasing her with shallow plunges.

“Oh God,” was all she could groan as she writhed with pleasure, her core clenching and releasing with the first tingles of orgasm.

She came in a violent rush, sweat misting her skin, her lungs burning as she fought to breath. His lips were around her trembling opening, sucking, his tongue delving. He was devouring her with an intensity she was helpless against. The flesh between her legs was so swollen and sensitive, so vulnerable to his ravenous hunger. She was climaxing again within minutes, her fingers gripping the narrow lip of the window seat in desperation.

Her eyes opened to the bright sunshine pouring in, and the sight of him looming over her with that smug, devilish smile on his lips as he used the back of his hand to wipe her from him. He gave her a long, slow, smoldering study as she struggled to steady her breathing, then he crawled over her, turning her body so they both could rest on the window seat. She felt his cock nudge at her, and then he lunged, driving deep into her with an animalistic grow. She cried out, echoing him, shocked by his fierceness as much as she was turned on by it.

Killian reared up, resting back on his heels, her thighs splayed over his. He gripped her hips, elevating them, tilting her to the angle he wanted. He rolled his hips, stirring his cock into her, pulling her onto him until she gasped at how deep he was. The lips of her sex clung to the very base of his shaft, spread wide to encompass his thick root. She had all of him, every inch, crammed too full and loved it. She’d been empty for too long since Christmas; so lonely she’d ached for him.

Killian groaned her name, and thrust slowly, watching every emotion as it flickered over her face, loving watching her enjoy the pleasure he was creating within her. Emma whimpered when he pulled out abruptly, but all thought of complaining vanished as he lifted her, flipping her over. There was a moment where she struggled to gain purchase, one of her knees colliding with his thigh in his rush to position her where he wanted her. She gave a short laugh at the absurdness of it, her hand gripping the lip of the window sill for extra balance. Her sex-fogged mind briefly registered the vibrant colors of the ocean as it swirled before her. She was confused for a minute, registering the intense beauty of it all, while also realizing they could be seen by anyone out there in bay, if they should happen to look in the direction of Killian’s home. His hot breath on her ass soon made all logic slip from her mind.

She jolted slightly when his teeth sank into the flesh of her rear, but that was soon replaced as she felt the heat radiating from his body dance over hers. She felt seared by his desire for her, her own skin just as feverish. She tensed all over, anticipating his penetration, needing it more than she’d ever needed anything before. Her entire body began to tremble from it. The affinity between them was brutal and raw, and almost unbearable.

Killian slid over her back, his knee pushing her legs wider, his perspiration-slick body blanketing hers. He pushed his cock in, his fingers linking with hers against the wood window lip, pinning her in place. His eyes fell on the softly churning ocean beyond the picture window as he rocked against her, sliding in. “I was miserable without you,” he murmured, his lips lowering to the soft skin of her back. He fucked into her slowly now, “I need your love, I need you.”

He reached around her and pressed the flat of his fingers against her aching clit and massaged gently, continuing his slow motions. Her toes curled, her lungs heaving as he possessed her without shame or reservation.

The orgasm brewing inside her was spurred on by his expressions of love and his increasing pace. Then he was wild, his movements erratic, as only thoughts of climax took over them both. His fingers left her clit and he grasped tighter onto her hips, so tight his knuckles whitened and he feared he’d mark her porcelain skin. But his mind screamed _Fuck it. Fuck her harder!_ And he held on as he pounded into her.

Emma’s hands slipped as the sweat collected against her palms. Desperate to give him leverage, to feel every part of his sex with every part of hers, she shifted, her palms now pressing against the window pane.

“Yes,” she called out. “God, yes. Harder, fuck me harder.”

Killian couldn’t comprehend how much harder he was supposed to go, but he did. “As you wish,” he ground out and then almost roared as he gave her everything he had.

***

Emma wandered Killian’s living space while he started the coffee and pawed through his cupboards in search of food. She winced, envisioning Killian’s smirk, as she stooped to pick up her gold dress discarded so hastily the night before, she feared it wasn’t still in one piece.

“Walk of shame time,” she mumbled to herself, tossing the dress over the back of the couch.

“What’s that, love?” Killian called from the kitchen.

The downstairs spaces all ran fluidly into the other around a central staircase that led to two rooms upstairs. The door they had entered through the night before led straight into the kitchen area, where a breakfast bar separated it from a small dining space. This flowed around to the living room, with another door which led out onto the veranda and to the lawn and rocks before the ocean. The living room boasted a fireplace, a large screen tv, a long couch and an easy chair. This continued around to a small area set up as an office, with a brass telescope directed out the window and to the ocean. The house was compact but completely functional and Emma loved it.

She looked back at him as he began placing rashers of bacon in a pan. “I said I’ll have to walk back to Granny’s in my dress from last night. It’s a little embarrassing.”

“Sleeping with me is embarrassing?” he asked, a little crest-fallen and his eyes taking on a look that reminded her of lost puppies. She found it adorable.

“Not at all,” she grinned as she moved into the kitchen. “What’s embarrassing is everyone will know what we were doing. I don’t know the people here.”

She started cracking eggs into a bowl he had placed on the countertop and then whisked.

“I guess I can hunt up something that won’t look too ridiculous on you,” he offered as he set another pan on the stove for her to cook the eggs.

She stopped just before pouring the eggs in. “I will not wear any of your past girlfriends left-behinds.”

“Good to know, love. But there aren’t any. I was thinking more on a shirt… with optional leg covering.”

She smirked at him as she turned her attentions back to the eggs. He finished the bacon and plated it before grabbing mugs for the coffee.

They settled at the breakfast bar to eat, Killian intent on his food until at least half had vanished. Emma watched him with a soft smile as she sipped her coffee. She’d never been a big breakfast eater, as long as she had her morning fix of coffee she was good to go, but this morning, as she watched Killian shovel eggs into his mouth, she felt ravenous. She put this down to the extreme amounts of sex they’d had. The words _sexual pretzel_ hummed in her head.  She was soon joining him in stuffing her face with bacon and eggs.

“So, I was wondering if you’d accompany me out on the boat this morning,” Killian said after a mouthful of coffee.

“I’ll definitely need my clothes for that,” she said, liking the idea of being on the open sea with Killian.

“I don’t know,” Killian replied with a sly smile. “You on my boat in nothing but my shirt is rather appealing, Swan.”

“I bet,” she grinned knowingly.

Once finished with their breakfast, Killian grabbed the plates and dumped them in the sink. “Why don’t I run to Granny’s and get your stuff for you? You are staying there, right?”

“How did you guess?”

“Mary Margaret arranged for you to be here, she and Ruby have been life-long friends, and it’s the only place for miles that will have vacancies.”

“You can be quite the detective, Jones. And, thanks, that would be great. Gives me some time to snoop around.”

She expected him to be adamant she leave things alone, but he simply said, “Snoop away, Swan. I have no secrets to hide from you.”

Her heart almost melted again. His brutal honesty, the easy way he opened his home to her, it was something she’d never experienced before.

He dashed up the stairs before she could answer him, so she crossed to the sink to deal with the dishes while he was gone. It was the least she could do. She had the water soapy with dish detergent and the plates soaking when he bounded back down.

“I’ll not be long,” he tossed over his shoulder, but then paused by the door and quickly turned back to her. He was beside her in two strides, grasping her face in his hands and turning it so he could kiss her, deep and hot.

Emma’s hands hovered over the sink, suds dripping from them while Killian kissed her. A kiss so much like the ones they’d shared before, but still unlike anything she’d experienced before.

He drew back, a hairsbreadth from her lips. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered again, then chastely kissed her forehead, and he was out the house.

Emma was stunned. “Wow!” was all she could articulate as her hands dropped into the dish water again.

Only a few seconds later, the door opened again, letting a blast of cold air in. “Swan, I’m guessing this is yours?” Killian asked, holding up a small black suitcase.

“It is,” Emma answered, a frown creasing her forehead. “How’d it get here?” She shook the water and suds from her hands and walked over to the dining table where Killian placed her suitcase.

“I guess the Storybrooke fairies were out last night, or this morning,” he grinned as she popped open the case.

“Storybrooke fairies?” she asked as she picked up a folded piece of paper on the top of her clothes.

_Emma,_

_We thought you would like these this morning. Hope all is well with you and Killian. Call me if you can, if not, we’ll meet at Granny’s for dinner. If you’re not there, I’m calling Graham to rescue you from the clutches of Evil Killian._

_Mary Margaret_

_Emma – If you need backup, I’m your guy. If not, I hope you’re negotiating a good deal for me – Jefferson._

“Who the fuck is Jefferson?” Killian demanded.

“Down boy,” Emma half laughed. “He’s my oldest friend. He came here with me,” she answered distractedly. “Who’s Graham?”

“Local sheriff. Do I need to be worried about this Jefferson guy?”

Emma smiled as she put the note back on her clothes and turned back to him. “Not at all. He’s a friend and was here as moral support.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about you needing moral support to see me again,” Killian grumbled, sounding a little saddened that she hadn’t been as eager to see him as he her.

“Any doubt flew out the window the minute I saw you in that room,” she said simply, her fingers weaving into his hair. “I was unsure if my heart could take it, that’s all.”

“Can your heart take it, love?” he asked, those puppy eyes back, with that adorable, unsure expression on his face.

“As long as we’re on the same page, I think it I can take it,” she answered. Her lips grazed softly over his, before she turned to grab her bag.

“What’s this about a deal?” Killian probed as he followed her upstairs.

“Jefferson is part owner of a bar in Perry,” she explained. “He’s hoping for some deal with you as he stocks your beer.”

“He’s a good friend of yours?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I’m sure there’s something we can sort out.”

Killian debated whether to stay and watch her dress for the day, but did the right thing and left her alone.

Some minutes later, she returned downstairs, dressed in tight jeans and a warm sweater. “Is this suitable boating attire?” she asked.

“You’ll do,” he grinned, catching her around the waist and pulling her close. “Though the boots are a little risky. We’ll need to outfit you better at a later date.”

His hand drifted down to her behind where he felt something stuffed into her back pocket. He pulled it out. “What’s this, love?” he asked, though the smirk on his face told her he knew exactly what it was. She snatched the black beanie back from him and pulled it on, down over her ears. “It’s gonna be cold out there on the water.”

“Is that my hat?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“No,” she grinned as she moved away, “It’s mine now.”

“And how am I supposed to keep my ears warm,” he asked her as he moved over to a coat rack by the kitchen door.

She followed him and trailed a finger down his earlobe.  “I’d much rather have them in view. Do you realize you have the cutest ears?”

He looked at her in disgust. “Cute!”

“Yes, cute,” she affirmed with a nod. “And incredibly sexy,” she added as she slid up to him and placed a soft kiss just below one.

“Okay, you can keep the hat. I’ll just freeze my ears off.”

“I’ll warm them up for you later,” she promised with a hint of mischief.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he returned as he wrapped a long scarf around her neck. With his hands on the ends he tugged her in for a kiss. “Let’s go.”

***

She had never felt so invigorated than as she stood at the bow of Killian’s sail boat, the wind blowing tendrils of her hair that escaped both her braid and hat. She had struggled to help Killian raise the two sails, flustering slightly under his harsh orders. She understood the urgency – to run with the wind – but having never done this before she would have preferred to not have him bellowing orders at her. She chuckled to herself as she thought, _like a true pirate captain_.

Now they were moving with some speed and she couldn’t stop the grin from spreading as she held tight to the steel rail, feeling buoyant and carefree as they sailed. She turned her head to see Killian smiling at her and she returned his grin. She could totally understand why he loved this so much; the feeling of freedom and exhilaration.

She made her way back to him where he stood at the helm, proud and strong.

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her to him.

She nodded. “Absolutely. But from what you were talking about in Boston, I expected something… bigger!”

He looked at her shocked for a moment and she schooled her face, determined not to snigger.

“Ah, you mock me, lass,” he finally said and smiled.

“You also said you were working on your boat. I guess you finished.”

“That’s a different boat and will not be finished for some time,” he explained.

“Can I see it,” she asked, snuggling closer against him.

“Of course, love. You need only ask. I’ll need more of your help to return, though. We’ll need to tack back.”

“Just tell me what to do and I’ll do my best,” Emma returned, having no clue what ‘tack back’ meant but willing to help out where needed.

Getting back was harder than setting sail in the first place. A lot of moving around the boat, switching the boom, and concentrating on not falling in the water. By the time she jumped from the boat, she almost wished Killian had just lowered the sails and used the motor to get them back. But it had been fun and something she could see herself enjoying on a regular basis.

Killian tied off the ropes, ensuring there was enough give incase the wind increased while still securing the vessel, then turned and led Emma off the jetty and over to a large boathouse.

Inside was his pride and joy. An old topsail schooner that had been shipwrecked a few miles up the coast from Storybrooke many years earlier. He had stumbled across it not long after moving to Storybrooke and after several tense months of waiting for an owner to claim the lost ship, it had been turned over to him.

It now stood in cavernous dry dock, held in place with large, thick supports, the hull and keel restoration now complete and he’d moved onto the deck.

Emma looked in awe at the huge vessel before. “Okay, I take it back. It’s really big.”

Killian grinned as he watched her move around the bow of the ship, one of her hands caressing the smooth wood and when she was out of sight, he scrambled up the ladder that gave access to the deck.

“Killian,” she called out when she returned to the ladder.

“Up here, Swan,” he called back from above.

Emma tipped her head up and barely saw his head poking over the top of the rail. She smiled as she started up the ladder. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked in surprise.

“Climbing the ladder,” she said as if talking to a three-year old.

“You can’t board without the captain’s permission.” His face was completely stern so Emma retreated down.

She rolled her eyes as she asked, “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

“You’re welcome to _come_ aboard anytime you wish, Swan,” he smirked, and swung out his arm as if in invitation.

Emma chuckled as she restarted climbing, shaking her head at his antics. She’d fallen into that innuendo completely. What she found at the top of ladder was the bare bones of a large deck. Killian offered her a hand so she could negotiate the ladder and the rail.

“This needs a ton of work,” she said, still slightly astounded he had such a large vessel as a project.

“That it does. But it’s something I’ve wanted for a long time. Come, I’ll show you the captain’s quarters.”

She didn’t miss the slow, wicked grin as he placed a hand on the small of her back and led her through what had been double wooden doors and down a small corridor. The door of the main quarters was intact, mostly, and standing ajar so they could move through into the small space freely.

Emma looked around her. The back of the room held a grid of woodwork, which she supposed would have been filled with glass at one time. To one side some shelving was rotting away, and the other side held a cabin bunk, larger than she expected but then again, this was the captain’s quarters. A large table stood at an angle, covered with new papers with hand drawn designs on them.

Killian moved over to the table. “I found this old desk at an antique store in Boston. It’s reported to have been in the Captain’s Quarters on the _Eleanor,_ one of the ships involved in the Boston Tea Party.”

Emma looked at him in disbelief. “You know you’ve been had, right?”

“Of course,” Killian grinned. “But I love the detail on it, and wanted it for my ship.”

Emma smoothed a palm over the intricate design of sea urchins and mythical creatures, the wood a little rough against her hand. “It is beautiful, and must have taken an age to create. Jefferson’s handy with carpentry. I’m sure he would love to help out around here.”

“Jefferson? The guy from the note?”

Emma nodded as she pressed her hands down on the desk.

“What are you doing, love?”

“Testing its weight,” she answered simply, turning back to him and leaning back against the wood, stretching her legs out and crossing her ankles.

“Why….” He caught the look in her eye. “Ohh,” he smiled and took a step closer.

She boosted up to sit on it, sending him a sultry smile. “Come on over here, pal, and bang the hell out of me.”

He let out a half laugh as he went to her. Though the glint in her eyes dared and demanded, he cupped her face and laid his lips gently on hers.

In response, she took two fistfuls of his hair, yanking him to her, hard. “Uh-uh. This is desk sex. That means it might hurt a little.” So saying, she bit him.

Then she shoved him back, deliberately rough, so she could pull off her sweater. “Give me what you have.”

“What I have?”

“Yeah. And more.”

“And when you say you can’t take it, remember what you asked for.”

“Oh, I can take it. Let’s see if you can when…”

He slid his hand between her legs, pressed, and the rest of her words died in a gasp. Before she could draw the next breath, his free hand clamped on the back of her neck, holding her in place while his tongue ravaged her.

Now he used his teeth, left her breathless and churning on the erotic edge just this side of pain. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him hard and tight against her, rocking, rocking against his hand driving her mad.

“Inside me. You should be inside me.”

“Not yet, no. I’ve more than that,” he remained here and caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Light pinches, relentless friction drove her straight over the edge.

Her legs tightened around him like a vise as she came, and he didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. Even as she moaned out her release, he shot her up again. Her own breath burned in her lungs as she stumbled along that edgy dangerous line of pleasure. She dragged at his jacket with hands that trembled with outrageous needs.

“Take it off, take it off.”

Desperate, she tore at his shirt, sent buttons flying. Then at last her hands found skin. Hot, firm, hers. Emma’s arms wrapped around him, her fingers digging into flesh, her nails scraping, biting.

“Now. God, now.”

But he said, “More,” and sent her flying again.

Something thudded to the floor when he pushed her back onto the desk. Then he was feasting on her breast even as his hand drew her pants over her hips. She struggled to reach his belt, to unhook it, to find him, to take him. He felt her quivering need to have him glide his tongue over her body, to take it over, into her.

The world was heat and glory, and the needs newly incited the moment they were met, hungers keenly sharpened the instant they were sated.

She gripped his hips, said his name, only his name, saw in his eyes a wild and wicked blue. And at last, he plunged into her. Hard and fast, whipping them both past all borders of control. She met him madness for madness, greed for greed until the world dropped away. She wondered how her heart didn’t break through her ribs. Its crazed beat rang in her ears as aftershocks – for that had been an earthquake of sex – shook her body. They sprawled over the desk like barely conscious survivors of a cataclysm, and she gave a passing thought to the desk.

_How bad could it be if it could support their weight?_

“Christ,” he said. “I can’t find my breath.”

“If you do, see if mine’s with it.”

He lifted his head, looked at her with eyes that managed to be wild and wicked, and a bit sleepy all at once. And she managed to lift her hand and brush the hair back from his face.

“So… was that all you’ve got?”

How, given their position and current state, he got his hand under her to pinch her ass – hard enough to make her yelp – was a wonder.

“Just asking. I may have seen God. She may have been smiling.”

He laid a kiss between her breasts, winced a little as he eased back to stand. “I believe it did hurt a little,” she laughed, and then hissed as she sat up. “Yeah, maybe.” She looked at his wrecked shirt, the panels hanging on either side of his wonderful chest. “I ripped your shirt – the buttons off anyway.”

She stumbled off the desk and looked at it with admiration. “This is a really good desk,” she said, her head falling forward to rest on his chest as he rubbed her back. When she was more composed, she leaned back and looked up at him. A soft smile crossed her lips and she brushed hers against his, sweetly, innocently, despite what had just taken place.

He tapped her ass. “Come on lass. It’s time to eat.”

***

Since it was long past lunch time, they did a quick refuel on snacks Killian found in his cupboard.

“I really should pop into the brewery, take a look at the reviews from last night,” he told her as he sipped from a bottle of water.

“How do you think it went? Do you think the people liked it?”

“Did you?” he asked, they’ve never really talked about the fact he’d named his beer for her, or that it’s taste was inspired by her and her love of hot chocolate with cinnamon.

“I loved it,” she smiled. “But I guess I don’t really count.”

“Of course your opinion counts. That beer was for you, Emma.”

Emma was speechless for a few moments as she studied him, automatically chewing on the chip she’d just put in her mouth. “I thought the beer was finished before you went to Boston?” she asked after swallowing.

“It was,” he answered simply. “I just added some things once I returned.

“Like what?”

“Like the chocolate taste, the cinnamon, the malt…” he laughed. “It was originally an ale. Robin was most put out with my changes.”

“Robin?”

“My main brewer. We had many an argument about it. But he eventually saw it my way.”

Emma scoffed. “Yeah, because you pay his wage.”

“Precisely, Swan,” he smiled back.

“If you point me in the direction of Granny’s, I can wait there for you.”

Killian looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Are you bloody insane, Swan. I’m not letting you out my sight.”

So they set out together back to the brewing company, the walk much easier in the daylight and boots than it was last night with her stumbling behind him in the dark and in heels.

He gave her the grand tour of his brewing company, from the large vats of brewing alcohol, to his office space. She was amazed to find a drawing of her here as well.

“I didn’t realize you drew so many pictures,” she stated as she wandered his space.

“I didn’t. I only did the one of you in the bedroom. The others I did from memory. You’ll remember I have a vivid imagination.”

“Others?” she repeated, ignoring his comment about his imagination. What he could dream up made her trembling slightly.

“Yeah,” he grinned to her, then added, “someday I’ll show you them.”

“Well, it’s about time you got here,” a stern voice flooded into the room, preceding a dark-haired woman. “Oh!” she stopped abruptly when she saw Emma, “sorry.”

Killian actually smiled at her and that made Regina pulled back even more.

“Emma, this is Regina Mills, my head of…”

“Everything,” Regina finished with a warm smile.

“Regina,” Killian continued, “Emma Swan.”

“Nice to meet… Swan? Ah, that explains everything.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Emma returned looking skeptically at Killian.

Killian just shook his head before asking Regina, “How did we do last night?”

“Well, if you’d bothered to stick around, you’d know the launch went exceptionally well.” She passed Killian some papers. “We’ve had some raving reviews this morning so I think, all in all, the sudden changes you made worked well.” She seemed almost reluctant to say this.

“Didn’t I tell you,” Killian grinned like a boy who’d been given a prized toy. “I told you the ingredients would work.”

“Yes, you did,” Regina sighed as she turned to head out. “Robin and I are heading down to Granny’s if you wanna tag along.”

Killian looked at Emma, an eyebrow raised in question.

“I really should talk to Mary Margaret,” Emma said.

“Okay, then we’ll go to Granny’s.”

***

The minute Emma stepped through the door to Granny’s diner she groaned, realizing her mistake. The diner looked like a sick cupid had vomited its wares all over the place. Red hearts were hanging from the ceiling, plastered on the walls, and small heart confetti adorned the tables. These were joined with cherubs flying on fluffy clouds with bows and arrows.

“Shit! I forgot it was Valentine’s Day,” she mumbled, half pushing herself back out of the diner. The overly romantic day was not something she needed right now. Yes, she was here with a guy who held her heart, but they still had to have ‘that’ conversation and she really didn’t want to push things. She wanted to enjoy the time she had with Killian, though she admitted to herself she hadn’t for one minute thought about going home.

“What’s wrong, Swan?” Killian asked confused as Regina and Robin pushed past them into the restaurant. He peered in and then smiled, grabbed her hand, and marched the two of them inside.

They settled in a wide booth as Regina and Robin grabbed a table by the window. The place was busy, couples and families all here to celebrate the holiday dedicated to love.

“Don’t you think it’s a little…cheesy?” she asked.

“Actually, I find it strangely befitting my mood, right now,” he replied with that cheeky grin of his.

She rolled her eyes at him but couldn’t stop the soft smile from spreading.

Killian looked to the counter, wondering how long it would be before one of the wait staff got to them, when he saw a friend.

“Graham, mate, come and meet Emma,” Killian called to a man sitting at the counter. A tall, well-built man, with a scruff of a beard, more rugged than Killian’s, and dreamy blue eyes wandered over to them.

“Graham Humbert, Emma Swan,” Killian announced proudly.

“Emma, it’s a pleasure to meet you, finally,” Graham greeted in a warm Irish accent.

“Finally?” Emma asked as Graham slid into the booth opposite them.

“Aye, lass. Many a night I had to haul this idiot into a cell for being drunk and disorderly since his return from Boston, and the only coherent words I could get out of him was, ‘Swan’, ‘Emma’, and ‘bloody love’.” He said the last words with a smirk and Killian shifted a little beside her.

“Well, mate, enough about that now. Emma, Graham’s the sheriff of these parts.”

“Really,” Emma said turning to look at Killian as she drew the word out, after all, he’d already told her that.

“Aye, and looking for a new deputy if I’m not mistaken.”

“Smooth, Jones. Real smooth,” she half laughed.

“You working in law enforcement?” Graham asked, intrigued as to why Killian would bring this up.

“Bail bonds,” Emma told him.

“Licensed to carry,” Killian offered with an encouraging nod of his head.

“By any chance would you be looking for new employment in Storybrooke, Miss Swan,” Graham smiled knowingly.

“I haven’t made my mind up yet,” she said to Graham before turning to Killian. “Meddlesome pirate,” she said under her breath.

“Hey, I’m just showing you there are options. Viable options.”

Graham looked at her sincerely. “I have a position open. You’re more than happy to fill out an application, though I can pretty much say, if you want the job, it’s yours.”

“Just like that. You’d give a stranger a job as your deputy?”

“You work in a _sort of_ arm of the law. If you’re licensed to carry, I take it you’ve had some training in using a firearm.”

Emma nodded.

“Well, that’s good enough for me.”

 _Could I do this,_ Emma thought as Killian and Graham fell into easy conversation. She looked at Killian, at his smiling face, noting how at ease he was, so much more than when they’d first met in Boston. She had nothing really holding her to Perry, except her friends. Her crappy job was tanking since the new boss had taken over, and working at Walsh’s diner and Jefferson’s bar were not what dreams were made of. At least, not for her. Working in law enforcement would be a challenge but she could totally see herself doing it.

In truth, she could see building a life for herself in this sleepy town in nowhere, Maine. With Killian. What did she have back in Perry? Nothing. Here she had a man who adored her, worshipped her, and she felt just as crazy about him.

But…

To build a new life on a relationship that hadn’t gone past six days was incredibly risky. She and Killian had really only spent a week together, in a relationship anyway. What if it didn’t work out? The pressure would be unbearable. What if it went down the tank and she’d built a life for herself here? Would she feel like she needed to leave town? It was a small town, could the two of them live here after a breakup?

She had so many negatives to making the move, and only one positive. Killian.

Her attention was brought back to Killian at his bellowing laughter. She needed to talk to someone and not him. He wouldn’t be able to think it through logically.  She needed Elsa.

But Elsa was off somewhere dealing with her sister and this wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have over the phone.

“Everything okay, love?” Killian’s concerned voice pulled her back from her thoughts.

“Fine,” she said distractedly when Mary Margaret entered the diner, followed closely by David and Jefferson. “Excuse me,” she said politely to Killian and Graham and made her way over to them.

“Hey,” she greeted eagerly.

“So you are still alive,” Jefferson a scolded.

“Behave,” she smiled.

“I was thinking I might need to send out the rescue party,” he continued, then glanced over her shoulder to the booth she had just left. “But it seems you are both still alive. Which one is he?”

Emma turned back to look at Killian and Graham. “The one in the black leather. The other is the local sheriff.”

“A cop! Jesus, Emma,” he held a hand over his chest. “You’re killing me here.”

“He offered me a job,” she said before she could stop herself, and she felt all three pairs of eyes land on her.

“No shit,” Jefferson grumbled, his jaw tightening.

“Absolutely shit,” she said before she turned to Mary Margaret. “I really need to talk to you.”   

“Okay,” Mary Margaret said, trying hard to contain her excitement. “David, could you introduce Jefferson to Killian and Graham.”

“Yes, dear,” he responded, also catching her warning glare. _Do not let Killian get all jealous and punch Jefferson._

Mary Margaret opened the main door again and gestured Emma out into the night air.

Emma followed her to one of the outside tables and chairs. “Thanks for bringing my suitcase this morning,” she started with.

“Oh, no thanks needed,” Mary Margaret said with a wave of her hand. “Consider it a Valentine’s gift.”

Emma chuckled a little at that, then sobered. “He wants me to stay,” she said.  

“Have you talked about it?” Mary Margaret asked tenderly.

“Not really. We…he told me this morning how much I hurt him when I left Boston. I knew I had, but hearing the words come from him…I don’t want to do that again.”

“So don’t,” Mary Margaret said simply. “Stay here and have tons of Killian babies.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is.”

“How can I just up my life and move to Storybrooke just because the man gives the most awesome orgasms.”

“Emma!”

“I’m sorry, it’s not just about the sex. Killian… he possesses my heart like no other has, and I’m scared. What if I put all my trust in him, give him all my love, and it turns sour?”

Mary Margaret looked at her with sympathy. Knowing a little about Emma and the issues she has since her last boyfriend cheated on her in every way possible, she understands her caution.

“I’m sorry, Mary Margaret, but I don’t have many female friends, trust issues all around for me, and I can’t talk about this with Jefferson, or Killian. Jefferson would just tell me to do whatever makes me happy.”

“And that’s exactly what I’m going to tell you. Emma.” She leaned over the table and grabbed Emma’s hands. “We can never be sure about anything in this life, nothing is ever going to be rainbow and unicorns, but, when we meet someone who touches us,” she placed a hand over her heart, “who understands us completely, we have to have hope that there will be sunshine to guide us, to light the way for us, to be the happy ending we all deserve.

“I’ve known Killian for a while and he doesn’t love easy. He’s had heartache in his life as well, pain and misery that haunt him. You have that same look in your eyes, Emma, I’ve seen it too often in his not to know it when I see it in yours. You’ve known great heartache, too. More than that fuckwad Neal, maybe more than you’ll ever feel comfortable telling me, but know he understand because he’s felt it, too.”

Emma sniffled a little, determined not to let her tears flow here, now.

“If you decide to stay I know it would be the right thing for you, but don’t stay because I want you to, or because he wants you to, stay because you want to, because you can’t live another moment without him. Stay because you love him, and love is worth it.”

***

Killian closed the door quietly behind him. “Do you want me to start a fire?” he asked, feeling a little nervous for some reason.

He watched her turn to him and shake her head _no_ as she walked slowly back to him. She stood not an inch from him, studying him, and he felt exposed, naked, before her. Her hands lifted and she cradled his face, her fingers rubbing into his stubble before dancing up so they could surround his ears. She smiled as she brought him to her, her lips brushing over his lightly, delicately, and for some reason, the words _butterfly kisses_ flittered through his mind.

She held him in place as she played with his lips, those lips she had dreamed of for days, weeks, hours. Lips created by the angels themselves. The heat within her built and she rose onto her tiptoes, angling his head more and going deeper.

His arms had moved around her waist, pulling her closer, needing her body to fit against his like he knew it could. Like a goddamn lock and key. He let her control their kiss, let her determine how deep it would be, eagerly following where she led.

She pulled away, her breath coming out in heated pants. “Take me to bed,” she whispered into his ear, before tugging on the lobe with her teeth.

He didn’t need to be told twice, and he picked her up, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Shehe continued to nibble on that sensitive piece of skin just under Killian’s jaw, the place that made him melt and tremble and need to be inside her before he exploded.

Emma had no memory of how they got to the bedroom, only that Killian’s work-roughened hands had removed her sweater, then her bra, and were now remapping her torso. His movements gentle, soft, as if she were made of glass, and it made every nerve within her tremble. She wasn’t usually a tender sex person, quick and hard was her thing, but with him, with Killian, it was right. It was love.

With intense will-power, she took his hands from her body and pressed them to his sides. Then she slowly unbuttoned his shirt, her eyes intent on his, wondering if he too was remembering the time she helped him fasten his shirt in Boston. The penetrating look of his blue eyes told her he did. She pushed the panels aside, again marveling at the expanse of chest before her, his dusty pink nipples, and the dark hair that turned her on like no other had. Soon her hands were worshipping his body as he had hers. Her nails scraped over his nipples, and Emma smiled when they puckered to points, then leaned forward and delicately encased it between her lips. Her tongue licked at it once, twice, and then gently bit down.

The low growl that rumbled in Killian’s chest vibrated into her body, her insides responding involuntary to the guttural sound. Slowly, they removed the rest of each other’s clothing, only having one brief moment of hilarity when Killian’s foot caught in his tangled jeans. Then they were on the bed, Killian moving over her, his eyes wild with _love_ for her. She saw it, registered it, and knew without a doubt, he loved her; that feeling made her soar almost as high as his reverent touched, his solid strokes, and the way he filled her completely.

He pushed into her slowly as he whispered, “Stay,” his gaze holding her in place as he moved in and out of her, continuously returning home. “Stay with me.”

It was sweet and loving and everything she ever thought the act of ‘making love’ should be, and all her words caught in her throat. She lifted her head, burying it in his neck so he couldn’t see her face, see the emotions she knew would be there as plain as day. She was surprised when tears stung her eyes.

His pace increased with his need for their completion, but remained blissfully tender, so much more than she’d ever experienced before. Even more so than their last time in Boston. She found herself riding a wave with him, being pushed to an oblivion she knew she hadn’t experienced before. Would only experience with him.

And when they crested, they hung together for a moment, an endless moment where everything was clear. This was right. They were right.

***

 


	4. February 15th and Epilogue

February 15th

Killian woke to an empty bed, though when he pressed his hand on her side, it was still warm, telling him she hadn’t been gone overlong. He listened for bathroom sounds, wondering if that was where she was, but on hearing nothing he blinked his eyes open.

He’d expected her to be on the window seat again like yesterday morning, but that was vacant as well. In a panic, he sat up, his eyes wandering the room. He exhaled with relief when he saw her suitcase was still in the corner where she’d left it, and her clothes were still tossed around the floor where he’d dropped them after stripping them from her body. She hadn’t left.

He’d been a little disappointed when she hadn’t answered him last night, confirmed to him if she would stay. He loved her beyond reason and he knew she felt the same, at least he hoped she felt the same. He brushed his hand through his hair as he rolled from the bed and headed to the bathroom. Once done, he pulled on his discarded jeans and made his way down stairs.

“Emma?” he called out, still not seeing her, but loving the aroma of coffee filling the air. She’d started the pot, he could get used to that. Then he saw her blonde hair through the window. She was outside.

He shivered when he stepped out onto the veranda. _What was it with this girl and her habit of sitting out in the freezing cold?_

“It’s so beautiful here,” she said as he came to sit beside her on the porch swing. He took the mug of coffee she had her hands wrapped around and took a large sip, enjoying the warmth as it flooded his throat.

“You should have a shirt on, you’ll freeze,” she cautioned as she took her mug back.

“Says the woman who is sitting here in, is that my shirt?”

“Yes, and your throw.”

“Where did you find that?” he didn’t even remember owning a blanket.

“Upstairs closet,” she answered as she shifted on the swing, snuggling closer to him and wrapping him in the warmth of the wool throw she’d found. “It’s like your own piece of heaven,” she added, referring to her earlier comment.

“That it is, love,” he answered but his eyes were on her as she pressed closer to him. _Yes, heaven on Earth. “_ When I bought this place, I wanted privacy and solitude. Now, I want something else.”

Emma turned her face into his chest. “I know,” she whispered.

“Do you want something different?” he asked her, carding his fingers through her hair.

“I want… breakfast,” she said with a smirk. She knew what she was doing to him, and some part of her hated herself for it. She knew what she wanted, she wanted him and the life they could make together, the promise that they would share a happily ever after. But, there was that part of her that was terrified. Scared of taking that leap. In truth, she couldn’t understand her fear. In the past she was so used to packing up and moving on at the drop of a hat, but with Neal she had somewhat settled, believed she could make roots and call a place home. Then he had royally fucked that up, and taken a little of her confidence with him. With Killian, she felt a part of herself had returned, but still, her fear of being abandoned again made her hesitate. Though in her heart, she knew Killian wouldn’t do that.

“Breakfast,” he echoed, disappointed that she had stirred the conversation away, again.

She nodded as she removed the throw and walked, barefooted and bare legged, back into the house. Killian shook his head at her as he followed. The first thing he was going to buy her was some slippers. He knew all too well how cold the wood flooring got out here on the veranda, and if she was going to make a habit of being out here, half dressed… he stopped that train of thought as he followed her indoors.

“You want some cereal?” Killian asked as he pulled open a cupboard.

“I can get my own breakfast,” Emma said with a smile as she moved toward the refrigerator. She was in bad need of something more substantial than cereal.  

“I could get used to you cooking my food,” he said as he closed the cupboard door. “That’s what women are…” Killian stopped as Emma shot him a dark look. “I think I’ll just get some milk for my cereal.”

“Go on, Killian. Don’t wimp out now. Say what you were going to.”

“I was just being flippant,” he said with that blasted adorable smile on his face. Damn him.

“Let me just get one thing straight, Jones. If we do this, I’m not going to be tied to the kitchen sink, cooking and cleaning for you 24/7.”

Killian’s heart sang at her words. She actually admitted she was thinking of staying. “Did I ever tell you how sexy you are when you’re mad?” he said as he stepped up behind her to wrap her in a quick hug.

“I’m not kidding, Killian,” Emma warned him even as the heat in her tone changed from anger to arousal as he began to place nibbling little kisses down her neck.

“I know, Swan.” He slid his hand down her thigh, grabbing a fist full of her/his shirt.

“Killian,” Emma breathed out as she felt him pulling the shirt upward.

“Hmm.”

“I thought you were hungry.”

“I am, love.”

He turned her, trapping her between himself and the refrigerator, sealing whatever else she might have said with a kiss and Emma returned the gentle kiss. When she nibbled seductively on his lower lip, her tongue asking for permission to enter, Killian’s heart tripped over itself. Slamming into his ribcage, it began to pump overheated blood throughout his body.

His mouth parted, allowing her tongue to lazily slide inside and stroke the fire burning up his body. The taste of her crashed through his control, eclipsing rational thought. In one heartbeat, the lust that always simmered just beneath the surface whenever Emma was around, overwhelmed him. Taking full control of the kiss, he invaded her mouth as his fingers curled over her mound, touching the hot liquid proof of her desire.

Killian stroked his fingers through her slit, slipping first one, then two thick fingers into her giving flesh. His thumb moved upward to press down on her clit. He rubbed her sensitive nub as he relentlessly thrust his fingers into her.

Emma’s entire body jerked as a sudden climax ripped through her, turning seconds into hours. Killian released her mouth as her body went limp against him. He hadn’t planned on taking things this far, but he seemed to have no control. Breakfast had become a distant memory as his mouth watered for something sweeter than cereal.

With a growl, he went to his knees, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder, leaving her completely exposed to his questing mouth. He stroked his tongue along her swollen, creaming slit with long, slow licks that made her squirm and arch. Killian lapped at her clit and smiled when she cried out, her hands fisting into his hair forcing him closer.

He continued his teasing flicks until she writhed with her need, her sex flooding with her juices. He knew she was close to coming. Pushing two fingers into her clenching depths, he swirled them, pushing her right over the edge.

Killian knew he had hit her sweet spot when her entire body bowed. Emma screamed and bucked beneath him. Her thigh clenched around his head as she spasmed, the proof of her release flooded his mouth.

Her taste was addictive. Like a drug to his senses, and it made him want to shove his face deeper, gorge himself on every single delectable inch of her pink flesh. Without hesitation, he fucked his tongue past her clenching inner muscles with deep greedy strokes.

Above him, Emma practically sobbed, her hands now trying to pull his head away. Killian could not be deterred and he continued to consume her with greedy, carnal abandon. He coerced another climax from her, this one fast and hard.

He lifted his head, his hands going to his pants as he stood. He fought to get his zipper down between his clumsy fingers and his cock pressing outward.

A breathy laugh brought Killian’s eyes back to Emma. She watched his struggled. Her grin made him growl again.

“Need some help?” she asked sweetly.

“You’re gonna be the one needing help.”

“Not if you can’t get your pants down.”

“You’re in trouble now.” Killian’s eyes narrowed dangerously now. “Come here.”

Emma shrieked with laughter and tried to duck to the right, hoping to make it to the safety of the other side of the island. Killian caught her by the waist and pinned her in place. He ignored her halfhearted attempts to get away, and lifted her up to sit along the edge of the counter, guiding her legs around his waist. Emma arched into him, rubbing her wet center against the thick length of his cock.

He felt her swollen folds divide, allowing his dick to slide along the length of her slit, up against her clit. Emma moaned and repeated the action, becoming more frantic with each pass.

Killian wasn’t about to let her get off on her own again. This time he intended to be with her. He shifted, letting his weight sag down on her until he was right where he wanted to be. Her tight little opening pressed against the head of his rock-hard cock.

With one hard thrust, he embedded himself fully into her wet sheath. Emma cried out as one of her hands knotted in his hair. The other pulled him closer, biting into the skin around his neck. The small, stinging pain drove him overboard. Killian set a quick, fast rhythm of deep hard thrusts. Her pussy sucked him in, squeezing him tight. The strong fist of her inner muscles made him growl and pound even harder into her.

Emma turned into a thing of wild need in his arms. Her breathing ragged, her nails scratching him as she clawed at his shoulders. He half wished his shirt wasn’t covering her breasts. He wanted to rip it off her, much like she had his, the day before, but he found it beyond erotic that something he wore was keeping his eyes from her luscious flesh while he was pounding into her. Even her teeth took a stinging nibble on his neck as he felt the beginning contraction of her climax milking him.

“Come for me, Emma,” Killian demanded.

Emma screamed out her agreement, throwing her head back as the fierce inferno of ecstasy consumed her. Killian’s lips pulled back in carnal triumph as he felt her trigger his own release. It shot through him like a blast from a shotgun, driving him deep into her, sealing them together as one.

Killian rested his forehead on hers, willing his heart back to a less dangerous speed. Emma’s choppy breath matched his own pants and, for several minutes they stayed like that.

Killian sighed as Emma squirmed for freedom. With obvious reluctance, he stepped back, letting her legs slide down to support her own weight. She fussed with her clothing as he straightened his own.

Killian’s hand cupped her cheek and he pressed his lips to hers once more. “Why don’t you go and shower and I’ll finished preparing breakfast for us. How do waffles sound?”

Emma could only weakly nod her agreement before she turned and staggered toward the stairs. She feared her body would give out with the amount of time she intended to have him between her legs, but man, there was no better way of wrecking herself in her eyes.

***

A few hours later and Emma quietly left Killian discussing deals with Jefferson in the sitting area of Granny’s B&B. She needed to do something and she needed to do it on her own.

She wandered away from the diner, with directions from Ruby written on a napkin in her hand. She only made two wrong turns but eventually she found herself in front of Storybrooke’s Sheriff Department.

She made her way through the corridors until she found Graham sitting at his desk inside a small office of the tiny bullpen.

“Miss Swan,” Graham greeted with a smile. “What can I do for you? Is everything okay with Killian?”

“Everything is fine,” she assured him, resting a hip against the corner of his desk. “So, how about that job?”

***

_ Epilogue _

An icy gust of cold air blasted through the open door into the warm, cozy sitting room.

“Shut the damn door!” a gruff voice called out.

“Sorry Grandpa,” a young male voice answered and the room shook slightly as the wood was slammed back into place.

“Gamma, is it true you met Gramps here?”

Emma wrapped her frail arms around the waist of the young girl, pulling her closer. “Yes, it’s true. He was sitting exactly where he is today, with the same flask of rum in his hands.”

The young girl giggled slightly as Killian said, “Hey, Swan! Enough about the rum.” He smiled at her, giving a quick wink.

“Dad, what have I said about the rum?” A tall, stylish woman entered the room with the stern comment, the very image of Emma at her age, except her hair was a deep, rich, chocolate color.

“Doctor, or not, you’re still my daughter, Allison, and not the boss of me,” Killian huffed.

“Mom,” Allison turned to whine at her mother.

“Killian,” Emma warned, and he sighed, giving an exaggerated eye roll as he pushed the flask into his vest pocket.

“Why do you call Gamma _Swan_ , Gramps?” the young girl asked.

“Because that was her name when I met her,” Killian answered easily.

The young girl's face pulled into a puzzled expression. “I thought your name was Emma, Gamma?”

“It is, Emily, but my last name was Swan and your Grumpy Gramps had trouble remembering names back then,” Emma answered with a wisp of a smile.

“Not how I remember it, Swan,” Killian beamed.

“Well, your memory’s not to be trusted,” Emma replied with smirk.

Killian caught her eyes with his own, striking blue challenging watery green. “I remember everything… Emma.”

Emma could say nothing to that. They held the other’s gaze, memories of their full life together playing out for them both.

 

_A month after taking the job with Graham with the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department, she had moved out of Granny’s B &B and into Killian’s place permanently. The following Christmas they returned to the Charmings B&B and during a trip to Frog Pond, Killian had produced a Ring Pop Gummy and proposed right there on the ice. They married in Storybrooke before taking their sail boatdown to the Caribbean Islands for their honeymoon._

_Their first child, Liam, was born a year after marriage, then Allison followed three years later, with Jackson being their last. Each of their pregnancies coincided with Mary Margaret and David’s growing family._

_Jefferson visited often, assisting Killian with the larger projects for the slowly improving large ship. Seven years into Killian and Emma’s marriage, Jefferson finally asked Elsa to marry him and they moved to Boston. With Killian’s financial backing, he opened his own carpentry business in the city and work on the ship increased._

_Three years later it was finished. A ten-year project come to fruition and they celebrated with a vast party, the ship's naming being an important part of it. The_ Emerald Siren _took her second maiden voyage by taking the Jones, Nolan, and Chapeau families back down to the Caribbean._

_Time seemed to pass quickly and Liam married the eldest Nolan daughter, Eva, and Allison moved to Boston to get her training at the prestigious Massachusetts General Hospital, before returning to work at Storybrooke General._

_Emma retired as Sheriff of Storybrooke, having taken the position decades earlier when Graham passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack. The youngest Nolan, Robert, was now the town's sheriff._

_Jackson took over the brewing company, leaving Killian time to run trips on his ship, teaching local children how to sail and holding corporate days for team building projects._

_Now, Liam and Eva were taking the reins of the Charmings Bed and Breakfast in Boston, and the large, extended families had come together for one last Christmas before Mary Margaret and David retired to Storybrooke. Killian had gladly relinquished any hold on his cherished privacy and solitude long ago when his own family began to grow, and that is why it wasn’t even a question in allowing their dear friends to build a small home on their property by the ocean._

_Now the elder Jones’ and Nolan’s would live side by side for the rest of their days and he was warmed by that thought._

 

“It’s been an adventure,” Emma said with a smile.

“That it has, love,” Killian said as Mary Margaret and David came to sit on the loveseat in front of the fire. “One I would live again if I could.”

“Gee, dad, you’re such a sap,” Jackson joked from his position by the archway.

“You will be too, when you meet that special girl. How is Garnet by the way?”

“Dad,” Jackson moaned, rolling his eyes and looking so much like Emma. Killian turned to look at his wife. Time may have wrinkled her skin slightly, but she was still the most beautiful woman in the world in his eyes.

“Gamma, did you know you loved gramps right from the moment you saw him?” Emily asked.

“Your gramps was, and is, a very handsome man and I knew there was something about him from the beginning,” Emma answered.

“But your gamma was being a typical girl and making me work for it,” Killian butted in.

“Work for it?” Emily asked, tilting her head in question.

“Dad, do not explain that to my eight-year old daughter!” Liam said sternly.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Emma said with a laugh.

“Why does everyone say that?” Emily complained in frustration, flopping her arms up and down before storming off.

“She’s very much into fairy tales and true love and happy endings at the moment,” Eva said by way of explanation.

“She’s eight and wants to know everything,” Emma reasoned with a smile.

A crash vibrated through the house, then a moment of silence before the wails of a distressed child echoed loudly.

“Moooooom!” Leo called, Liam and Eva’s oldest boy.

“Well, there goes the peace,” Eva said with a sigh and struggled from the couch, her very pregnant belly protruding before her, she waddled off in the direction of her obviously hurt daughter.

After a while, she called, “Liam, can you give me a hand.”

“She has difficulty in kneeling at the moment,” Liam said in explanation as he followed his wife.

“Of course she does,” Allison, his sister, called after him. “She can’t see her feet!”

“Mom, look, she bleeding,” Leo’s excited voice floated into the room.

“Leo, stop being over dramatic,” Eva chided. “Liam maybe you should sit down.”

Mary Margaret chuckled slightly in the parlor. “Allison, dear, why don’t you go help them. You know how Liam gets when there’s blood around.”

“Yeah, he’s such a puss…”

“Allison Jones, you will not finish that sentence,” Killian warned.

“Whatever, Dad,” she mumbled as she stood and followed the noise coming from the kitchen.

The parlor fell silent again, the only sound being the crackle of the open fire. Mary Margaret snuggled closer to David and she sighed. “I’m going to miss this place.”

“We’ll still visit,” David said, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders.

“But so many of our memories have happened here,” she replied softly.

“And we’ll make new memories at the new place,” David reasoned. “Mary Margaret, we’ve all been planning this retirement for a long time. It’s time to enjoy it.”

“You’re right,” Mary Margaret said, her eyes flickering to Emma and then Killian. “The next stage of our life is going to be crazy awesome.”

“You’d better believe it,” Emma agreed. “I for one refuse to grow old gracefully.”

Killian looked at Emma, that wild and wicked look still evident in his paling blue eyes, and he patted his knee, his cocky smirk pulling at his lips.

“Aren’t we a little too old for all that.”

“Not in the least, Swan. Now come here and help keep an old man warm.”

Emma gave a half laugh and shook her head, but still eased herself from the chair and over to him. She slipped with an ease belying her age onto his lap, an arm snaking around his shoulders and her fingers finding their favorite place in his hair.

“Now, that’s better,” he sighed.

Emma settled her head against his.

“I love you, Killian Jones,” she said simply.

“And I love you, Emma Jones. Then, now, and forever.”  

***

 


End file.
